jmajstcrpicccjs  of  tl)t  Cnglijsl)  iOvama 

GENERAL   EDITOR 

FELIX    E.    SCHELLING 


MASTERPIECES   OF    THE   ENGLISH   DRAMA 

Felix  E.  Schelling,  Ph.D.,  LL,D.,  General  Editor 


CHRISTOPHER  MARLOWE:  Tamburlaine  (both  parts). 
Doctor  Faustus.  7  he  Jezu  of  Malta.  Edward  the  Second, 
With  an  Introduction  by  William  Lyon  Phelps,  Professor  of 
English  Literature,  Yale  University. 

GEORGE  CHAPMAN :  All  Fools.  Eastiuard  Ho.  Bussy 
D\4mbois.  The  'Revenge  of  Bussy  U Ainbois.  With  an 
Introduction-  by  Ilavelock  Ellis,  editor  of  77/1?  Mermaid 
Series  of  English  Dramatists,  etc. 

FRANCIS  BEAUMONT  and  JOHN  FLETCHER:  The 
Maid's  Tragedy.  Phi/aster.  The  Faithful  Shepherdess. 
Bonduca.  Edited  by  Felix  E.  Schelling,  Professor  of  English 
Literature,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

BEN  JONSON:  Every  Man  in  His  Humour.  Volpone. 
Epiccene.  The  Alchemist,  With  an  Introduction  by  Ernest 
Rhys,  editor  of  Dekker's  Plays,  etc. 

THOMAS  MIDDLETON:  Michcelmas  Term.  A  Trick  to 
Catch  the  Old  One.  A  Fair  Quarrel,  The  Changeling, 
Edited  by  Martin  W<  Sampson,  Professor  of  English  Liter- 
ature, Cornell  University. 

PHILIP  MASSINGER :  77/^  Rofnan  Actor.  The  Maid  of 
Honour,  A  Neiv  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  Believe  asYou  List, 
Edited  by  Lucius  A.  Sherman,  Dean  of  the  Graduate  School 
and  Head  Professor  of  English,  University  of  Nebraska. 

JOHN  WEBSTER  and  CYRIL  TOURNEUR:  The  White 
Devil.  The  Duchess  of  Malfi.  Appitis  and  Virgittia.  —  77/,? 
Revenger's  Tragedy.  With  an  Introduction  by  Ashley  H. 
Thorndike,  Professor  of  English,  Columbia  University. 

WILLIAM  CONGREVE:  The  Double-dealer.  The  Way  of 
the  World.  Love  for  Love.  The  Mourning  Bride,  With  an 
Introduction  by  William  Archer,  editor  of  Farquhar's  plays, 
etc. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH  and  RICHARD  BRINSLEY 
SHERIDAN:  77;^  Good-natured  Man,  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer, — The  Rivals,  The  School  for  Scandal.  The 
Critic.  Edited  by  Isaac  N.  Demmon,  Professor  of  English, 
University  of  Michigan. 


III!  ^  mill 


iiiiii^ii[i[iniiic:^iuiiiniii'=3iiiiiiii[ii^iiiiiiiiii 


THE  FORTUNE  THEATRE 

Built  1509-1600  for  Philip  Henslowe  and  Edward  Alleyn 

(Drawing  based  on  the  description  in  the  original 

builder's  contract) 


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im 


"^la^XtxT^ua:^  of  the  toj^lisH  Jrama 

WEBSTER  AND 
TOURNEUR 


WITH    INTRODUCTION    BY 

ASHLEY   H.    THORNDIKE 

COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YORK      CINCINNATI   •   CHICAGO 

AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY 


B 


Copyright,  1912,  bv 
AMERICAN    BOOK   COMPANY. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London. 

webster  and  tourneur. 
w.  p.  I 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction i 

The  Whitk  De\il,  ok  Vittokia  Corombona       ...  25 

The  Duchess  of  Malfi 139 

Appius  and  Virginia 251 

The  Revenger's  Tragedy 335 

Notes       . ,        .431 

Glossary 459 


JOHN  WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL  TOURNEUR  ^ 

The  facts  that  we  possess  of  Webster's  dramatic 
career  are  meagre,  as  is  the  case  with  most  of  the  EHza- 
bethan  dramatists.  We  do  not  know  when  he  was 
born,  what  was  his  vocation,  or  what  his  family. 
What  were  his  personal  experiences,  beliefs,  and  opin- 
ions, are  matters  of  conjecture.  In  1602  he  makes  his 
first  appearance  as  a  collaborator  on  plays  for  the 
theatrical  manager  Henslowe.  The  latest  record  that 
exists  concerning  him  is  a  publication  of  1624.  Dur- 
ing some  of  these  inter\'ening  years  he  was  apparently 
a  hack  writer,  turning  his  hand  to  assist  on  this  play 
or  that  as  manager  or  actors  desired,  associating  on 
terms  of  friendship  with  many  of  his  fellow  dramatists, 
and  occasionally  venturing  on  a  poem  in  praise  of 
friend  or  patron.  Some  of  this  work  is  lost;  and  in 
much  of  what  survives  his  share  in  collaboration  is  with 
difficulty  discernible,  and  rests  largely  on  recent  critical 
analysis.  But  he  produced  a  few  plays  wholly  his  own, 
and  two  which  neither  his  contemporaries  nor  readers 

1  There  is  a  fu!l  bibliography  of  Webster  in  the  Bellcs-Leltres  edi- 
tion of  two  of  his  plays,  edited  by  Professor  M.  V^.  Sampson;  and 
a  good  bibliography  of  cr-itical  discussions  of  Webster  and  Tourneur 
in  Professor  ScheWmg's^  Elizabethan  Drama  (190S).  Professor 
Vaughan's  essay  on  the  two  poets  in  The  Cambridge  History  of 
English  Literature,  vol.  vi  (1910)  is  accompanied  by  a  full  bibliog- 
raphy, pp.  49S-501.  For  an  elaborate  scholarly  treatment  of  Web- 
ster, readers  may  be  referred  to  Dr.  E.  E.  Stoll's  John  Webster 
(1905);  and  for  an  account  of  the  development  of  ElizaV)ethan 
tragedy  to  the  writer's  Tragedy,  Types  of  Literature  Series  (igocS). 
The  present  Introduction  has  drawn  freely  from  both  of  these  books. 

I 


2         JOHN    WEBSTER    AND    CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

since  then  have  allowed  to  be  forgotten.  Full  of 
Elizabethan  sensationalism  and  exaggeration,  adapted 
to  the  tastes  of  his  day,  peculiarly  the  product  of  its 
theatre,  and  long  since  unsuited  to  the  stage's  changing 
requirements,  The  White  Devil  and  The  Duchess  of 
Malfi  continue  yet  to  excite  and  thrill  men's  imagina- 
tions. In  spite  of  all  the  tragedies  of  blood  and  tales 
of  terror  written  during  the  past  three  centuries,  they 
remain  unsurpassed  in  the  literature  of  ghastly  horror. 
As  Swinburne's  fine  sonnet  declares,  they  have  usurped 
the  terrors  of  the  grave,  the  "  very  throne  of  night" : 

"Rage,  anguish,  harrowing  fear,  heart-crazing  crime, 
Make  monstrous  all  the  murdering  face  of  Time 
Shown  in  the  spheral  orbit  of  a  glass 
Revolving." 

Webster's  work  is  typical  of  the  constant  conflict 
between  the  immediate  demands  of  the  theatre  and 
high  literary  ambitions  —  a  conflict  which  is  every- 
where reflected  in  the  Elizabethan  drama.  That 
drama  responded  to  a  peculiar  public,  mixed  of  court- 
'  iers,  citizens,  and  an  almost  illiterate  populace;  to 
an  audience  vulgar,  ignorant,  and  brutal,  craving  story, 
sensation,  and  amusement.  And  it  adapted  itself  to  a 
peculiar  stage,  half-lighted,  without  scenery  or  drop 
curtain,  with  little  decoration,  without  women  actors, 
I  a  stage  that  o^ffered  little  assistance  to  the  play  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  put  almost  no  barriers  between  audi- 

tence  and  actor. 
But  the  drama  also  responded  to  a  vigorous  national 
life,  to  a  time  of  stirring  activity  of  politics  and  com- 
merce, and  of  emotions  and  ideas  as  well.  The  lan- 
guage itself  was  changing,  taking  readily  new  forms  and 
new  words,  and  men  were  as  eager  for  adventure  and 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR         3 

discovery  in  literature  as  in  any  other  field.  The 
young  men  who  wrote  for  the  theatre  suited  them- 
selves readily  to  its  conditions  and  demands,  but  they 
were  also  mindful  of  the  literary  greatness  which  the 
drama  had  attained  in  antiquity  and  of  the  literary 
achievement  to  which  it  had  suddenly  summoned  men 
in  their  midst.  They  brought  buffoonery,  rant,  and 
sensational  story  to  the  stage,  but  they  also  brought 
poetical  ambition  and  an  imaginative  interest  in  the 
springs  of  human  action  and  passion.  Every  writer, 
Shakespeare  included,  was  inevitably  conditioned 
by  the  habits  of  his  audience,  his  actors,  and  his  stage. 
Every  writer,  even  the  humblest,  had  some  vision  of  in- 
terpreting life  into  beautiful  and  abiding  verse.  A  part 
of  Webster's  work  was  done  merely  for  immediate 
consumption,  including  historical  plays  of  the  crudest 
sort  and  comedies  that  met  a  passing  taste  for  realism 
and  indecency.  But  in  tragedy  he  found  a  form  which 
Marlowe,  Shakespeare,  and  others  had  employed  to 
satisfy  the  public's  love  for  horrors,  rant,  and  blood- 
shed, and  which  they  had  also  endowed  with  the  dig- 
nity and  grandeur  of  poetry.  Here  was  his  oppor- 
tunity for  fame,  for  poetry,  and  for  giving  voice  to 
something  of  his  own  soul. 

All  of  his  dramatic  work,  even  when  undeserving  of 
any  place  as  literature,  has  a  considerable  historical 
interest,  because  it  illustrates  so  variously  the  differ- 
ent trends  and  movements  in  the  rapid  growth  and 
expansion  of  the  drama.  That  Webster  was  distinctly 
and  consciously  imitative,  that  he  was  at  every  point 
dej)cndent  upon  the  work  of  his  predecessors,  has  been 
sho\vn  by  the  acute  and  exhaustive  study  of  Dr.  E.  E. 
Stoll.*     And  Webster  himself  acknowledged  his  in- 

'  John  Webster,    E.  E.  Stoll,  1905. 


4        JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

debtedness  with  pride.  He  came  somewhat  late  in  the 
drama's  brief  but  rapid  development.  He  began  to 
write  plays  ten  years  after  the  deaths  of  Greene  and 
Marlowe,  and  just  at  the  moment  of  Shakespeare's 
Hamlet.  During  the  ensuing  decade,  Chapman  and 
Jonson,  as  well  as  Shakespeare,  were  at  their  greatest; 
and  before  the  decade  was  over  the  collaboration  of  the 
youthful  and  brilliant  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  was  at 
its  height.  It  was  in  emulation  as  well  as  rivalry  of 
these  poets  that  Webster  composed  his  masterpieces. 
He  began  writing  at  a  time  when  the  drama  had  al- 
ready won  a  commanding  sway  over  the  imagination 
as  well  as  the  recreation  of  London,  and  was  achieving 
eminence  as  a  field  for  literary  endeavour;  and  he  lived 
to  see  its  chief  glories  and  the  beginning  of  its  decline. 
He  wTote  as  a  student  and  disciple  of  his  great  contem- 
poraries, and  his  preface  to  The  White  Devil  gives  one 
of  the  earliest  recognitions  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  as 
literature,  the  first  avowal  that  in  the  crude  playhouses 
there  was  arising  a  great  dramatic  tradition.  The 
document  is  therefore  of  high  importance  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  drama : 

"Detraction  is  the  sworn  friend  to  ignorance:  for  mine 
own  part,  I  have  ever  truly  cherished  my  good  opinion  of 
other  men's  worthy  labours;  especially  of  that  full  and 
heightened  style  of  Master  Chapman  ;  the  laboured  and  un- 
derstanding works  of  Master  Jonson ;  the  no  less  worthy 
composures  of  the  both  worthily  excellent  Master  Beau- 
mont and  Master  Fletcher  ;  and  lastly  (without  wrong  last 
to  be  named),  the  right  happy  and  copious  industry  of 
Master  Shakespeare,  Master  Dekker,  and  Master  Hcy- 
wood;  wishing  what  I  write  may  be  read  by  their  light; 
protesting  that,  in  the  strength  of  mine  own  judgement,  I 
know  them  so  worthy,  that  though  I  rest  silent  in  my  own 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR         5 

work,  yet  to  most  of  theirs  I  dare  (without  flattery)  fix  that 
of  Martial: 

" '  non  norunt  haec  monumenta  mori.'  " 

Even  Webster's  great  plays,  as  we  shall  see,  repre- 
sent, not  only  this  general  indebtedness,  but  also  specific 
and  close  relationships  to  the  contemporary  writers  of 
tragedy.  His  lesser  plays  are  almost  wholly  imitative. 
They  give  no  clue  to  the  real  poet,  and  may  be  noticed 
very  briefly.  In  1602  Webster  is  mentioned  in  Hens- 
lowe's  Diary  as  collaborating  on  four  plays:  Ccesafs 
Fall,  Two  Shapes  (sometimes  read  Two  Harpes), 
Lady  Jane,  and  Christmas -Coynes  but  Once  a  Year. 
None  of  these  survives  except  Lady  Jane,  which  doubt- 
less appears  in  an  altered  form  in  The  Famous  His- 
tory of  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  by  Dekker  and  Webster, 
printed  in  1607.  Besides  Dekker  and  Webster,  Mun- 
day,  Drayton,  Middleton,  Chettle,  Heywood,  and 
Wentworth  Smith  assisted  in  one  or  more  of  these 
plays,  at  least  four  being  concerned  in  each  play. 

In  1604  Marston's  Malcontent  was  published  with 
some  additions  by  Webster,  probably  little  more  than 
a  new  Induction  for  the  performance  by  the  King's 
men. 

In  1607  were  printed  Westward  Hoe  and  Northward 
Hoe,  both  written  by  Webster  and  Dekker,  and  acted 
two  or  three  years  earlier.  These  are  comedies  of 
London  manners,  realistic  and  coarse,  in  the  main  the 
work  of  Dekker,  and  following  a  current  fashion  in 
which  Middleton  was  the  leader.  Webster's  share  in 
either  is  small.*  His  four  own  plays  were  written  at 
later,  but  uncertain  dates.  The  White  Devil  (printed 
161 2)  was  probably  written  and  acted  about  1610;  The 

^  Cf .  The  Collaboration  of  Webster  and  Dekker,  F.  E.  Pierce 
{Yale  Studies  in  English,  1909). 


6        JOHN    WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

Duchess  of  Malfi  (pr.  1623)  not  long  afterward.  The 
Devil's  Law  Case  (pr.  1623)  followed  soon  after  these 
two  tragedies,  which  are  mentioned  in  its  dedication. 
Applies  and  Virginia  (pr.  1654)  bears  e\'idence  in  its 
style  and  structure  of  a  later  date  than  these  other 
plays.  In  1624  the  official  register  of  the  Master  of 
Revels,  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  notes  the  licensing  of  "a 
new  tragedy  called  A  Late  Murder  of  the  Son  upon  the 
M other, ^^  written  by  Ford  and  Webster.  The  play, 
presumably  based  on  some  contemporary  crime,  is 
non-extant. 

Three  other  plays  have  been  assigned  in  part  to  Web- 
ster. Kirkman,  a  very  doubtful  authority,  published 
in  1 66 1  two  plays,  The  Thracian  Wonder  and  A  Cure 
for  a  Cuckold,  which  he  assigned  to  Webster  and  Row- 
ley. The  former  play  shows  no  sign  of  Webster,  and 
the  traces  of  his  manner  in  the  second  are  by  no  means 
indubitable.  The  Weakest  Goeth  to  the  Wall,  as- 
signed to  Dekker  and  Webster  by  Edwin  Phillips,  has 
never  been  accepted  as  his  by  students  of  the  drama. 
Webster's  non-dramatic  poetry  is  slight  and  unimpor- 
tant. It  includes  some  commendatory  verses  to  Mun- 
day  and  Heywood,  an  elaborate  elegy  on  Prince  Henry 
(1612)  and  Monuments  of  Honour  (1624),  "a  tri- 
umph for  the  installation  of  the  Lord  Mayor."  How 
long  Webster  lived  after  1624  we  do  not  know. 

A  Cure  for  a  Cuckold  and  The  DeviVs  Law  Case  are 
comedies  of  a  different  sort  from  the  early  ones  in  which 
Webster  was  associated  with  Dekker.  They  show,  as 
Mr.  Stoll  has  demonstrated,  the  influence  of  new  fash- 
ions and  of  Fletcher's  dominance  in  the  drama.  They 
rely  on  sensational  situations  and  stock  types  of  char- 
acter, and  bring  their  tragic  stories  to  happy  conclu- 
sions after  a  progress  from  surprise  to  surprise.     They 


JOHN    WEBSTER    AND    CYRIL   TOURNEUR         7 

have  little  distinction  or  merit.  If  we  had  a  com- 
plete record  of  Webster's  life,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
we  should  find  that  he  had  a  hand  in  many  plays  be- 
sides those  recorded.  Even  so,  it  may  be  doubted  if 
any  of  this  unknown  work  would  a[)i)roach  in  value 
the  three  plays  contained  in  this  volume.  From  our 
brief  review  of  the  known  facts  of  his  dramatic  career, 
it  is  clear  that  the  critic's  task  is  to  trace  the  relation- 
ship of  these  plays  to  the  general  course  of  Elizabethan 
tragedy,  and  thus  to  arrive  at  an  appreciation  of  their 
particular  and  abiding  contribution  to  dramatic  litera- 
ture. 

Tragedy,  in  the  Elizabethan  period,  was  a  division 
of  the  drama  well  recognized,  but  never  precisely  de- 
fined. But  its  invariable  accompaniment  was  violent 
death.  There  are  few  Elizabethan  tragedies  that  are 
not  included  by  the  generic  term,  "tragedy  of  blood." 
Murder  after  murder,  varied  by  an  occasional  suicide, 
and  culminating  in  a  general  slaughter  in  the  fifth  act  — 
this  is  the  inevitable  program.  Toward  these  deaths, 
through  plots  and  counterplots,  many  consuming  emo- 
tions lead  the  way,  love,  ambition,  jealousy,  tyranny, 
and  revenge.  Of  these  none  played  a  more  active  part 
than  revenge.  It  is  rarely  altogether  absent  from  the 
motives  of  the  characters,  and  in  a  large  group  of  plays 
it  is  the  chief  dramatic  force.  The  plays  of  Seneca, 
so  influential  on  all  European  tragedy  during  the  later 
Renaissance,  had  been  mainly  concerned  with  themes 
of  revenge  or  retribution;  and  their  model  was  readily 
adapted  to  the  English  theatrical  taste  for  bloodshed, 
horror,  and  physical  suffering.  This  English  type  of 
revenge  play  was  set  by  the  enormous  success  of  Kyd's 
Spanish  Tragedy,  written  at  the  time  when  IMarlowe 
was  revolutionizing  the  public  drama.     This  play  tells 


8        JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

the  story  of  a  father  seeking  blood  vengeance  for  a  son 
foully  murdered.  There  are  horrors  and  rant,  in- 
sanity and  suicide,  a  love  idyl  and  philosophizing,  a 
villain  with  an  accomplice  and  a  ghost  who  oversees 
the  action.  The  father  is  pursued  by  doubts  and  in 
his  irresolution  is  driven  to  madness,  until  he  finally 
resorts  to  dissimulation  and  entraps  the  murderers  into 
giving  a  play  in  which  both  they  and  he  perish.  Here, 
in  spite  of  the  cumbersome  structure,  the  dramatic 
struggle  between  the  avenger  and  the  murderers  offers 
a  capital  plot.  It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  perennial  plots 
of  fiction,  and  you  may  find  it  to-day  in  the  latest  melo- 
drama or  novel.  There  is  also,  in  the  hero's  struggle 
against  a  time  that  seems  out  of  joint,  and  in  his 
lonely  battle  to  punish  the  wicked,  a  theme  that 
touches  on  the  mysteries  of  destiny  and  circumstance. 
On  a  parallel  story,  the  revenge  of  a  son  for  a  father, 
Kyd  wrote  another  play,  the  old  Hamlet,  a  play  un- 
fortunately lost,  which  exerted  a  considerable  influence 
on  the  drama.  Of  that  influence  the  most  important 
result  was  that  twelve  years  later,  at  a  time  when 
Ben  Jonson  was  writing  additions  for  The  Spanish 
Tragedy,  Shakespeare  used  this  other  play  of  Kyd's 
as  a  basis  for  his  Hamlet. 

Shakespeare's  Hamlet  brings  us  almost  to  Webster, 
but  in  the  years  between  its  production  and  that  of 
The  Spanish  Tragedy,  the  "revenge  play"  had  be- 
come one  of  the  most  popular  forms  of  tragedy.  Mar- 
lowe's plays  had  not  dealt  largely  with  revenge,  except 
his  Jew  of  Malta,  which  either  owes  much  to  Kyd,  or 
else  Kyd  something  to  it;  but  his  great  protagonists, 
his  surging  passion,  and  his  beautiful  verse  had  dis- 
closed new  vistas  of  what  tragedy  might  undertake. 
More  specifically,  he  gave  to  the   revenge  play  the 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR        9 

atrocious,  unscrupulous,  Machiavellian  villain,  a  type 
represented  by  Lorenzo  of  The  Spanish  Tragedy, 
but  much  more  fully  developed  in  Barabas  of  The 
Jew  of  Malta.  And  he  also  gave  examples  of  a  dra- 
matic treatment  of  death,  at  once  theatrically  effective 
and  profoundly  tragic.  In  the  main,  however,  the  re- 
venge tragedy  had  followed  Kyd,  and  the  stage  had 
been  filled  with  avengers  and  ghosts.  These  were 
mostly  imitative,  but  during  a  few  years  at  the  close  of 
the  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  next  there  were 
several  plays,  relating  the  story  of  a  re^'enge  of  a  son 
for  a  father,  which  offered  various  departures  from 
Kyd.  Besides  Shakespeare's  Hamlet  there  were  Chet- 
tle's  Hoffman  and  Toumeur's  Atheist's  Tragedy,  and, 
earlier  than  any  of  these,  Marston's  Antonio's  Revenge. 
Marston  is  far  from  being  an  engaging  writer.  His 
uncouth  language,  his  abominable  filth,  and  his  ab- 
surd pretentiousness  are  enough  to  hide  from  all  but 
the  curious  reader  the  powerfully  imaginative  concep- 
tions to  which  he  occasionally  gives  expression.  But 
his  part  in  the  development  of  tragedy,  and  espe- 
cially his  part  in  preparing  the  way  for  Toumeur  and 
Webster,  was  a  considerable  one.  He  began  his  lit- 
erary career  as  a  writer  of  satires,  distinguished  by 
their  fustian  vocabulary  and  their  realistic  denuncia- 
tions of  hypocrisy  and  vice,  and  he  presently  trans- 
ferred these  themes  and  methods  to  the'  drama. 
Antonio's  Revenge  followed  the  general  scheme  of 
Kyd's  plays  with  some  additions  of  melodramatic  hor- 
rors and  of  pessimistic  philosophizing.  Marston's 
energies  were  then  turned  to  the  direction  in  which 
Chapman,  Jonson,  ]\fiddlcton,  and  others  were  lead- 
ing, that  of  satirical  and  realistic  comedies.  One  of 
these,  The  Malcontent,  a  sort  of  combination  of  the 


lO      JOHN    WEBSTER    AND    CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

revenge  tragedy  and  saftirical  comedy,  is  a  powerful 
play.  The  malcontent,  disgusted  at  society  and  de- 
nouncing everything,  nevertheless-  in  his  assumed 
disguise  seeks  to  set  things  right.  This  "  humouristic  " 
conception  owes  something  to  Jonson,  but  the  malcon- 
tents who  are  frequent  in  later  drama  usually  remind  us 
of  Marston's  hero.  Both  in  The  Malcontent  and  in  his 
tragedies  Marston  aimed  his  satire  and  realism  chiefly 
at  the  depiction  of  lust  and  villainy,  already  two  impor- 
tant ingredients  of  the  revenge  tragedy.  Henceforth 
they  wax  in  importance  until  they  overshadow  the 
primary  motive  of  blood  vengeance. 

There  thus  arose  a  new  development  in  the  revenge 
play,  and  one  quite  different  from  that  which  Shake- 
speare made  in  Hamlet.  Shakespeare  made  the  most 
of  the  motive  of  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  avenger, 
and,  while  retaining  the  intrigue  and  bloodshed  of  the 
old  story,  made  the  internal  conflict  of  his  protagonist 
of  primary  interest.  Other  writers  neglected  the  hesi- 
tation motive  and  developed  the  model  of  Kyd  largely 
by  emphasizing  the  most  horrible  aspects  of  lust  and 
villainy. 

If  Marston  or  Toumcur  had  revised  Hamlet,  the 
passion  of  Claudius  for  the  Queen  would  have  been 
more  prominent,  Ophelia  would  have  been  involved  in 
some  lustful  entanglement,  and  Laertes  would  have 
been  as  depraved  and  cynical  as  lago.  Chettle,  indeed, 
in  dealing  with  the  revenge  of  a  son  for  a  father,  made 
the  avenger  an  utterly  bloodthirsty  villain  who  in  the 
end  is  destroyed  because  of  his  passion  for  the  mother 
of  his  chief  victim;  and  Toumeur,  dealing  with  the 
same  plot  in  The  Atheist^s  Tragedy,  made  the  mur- 
derer lustful  after  the  betrothed  of  the  hero.  Such 
sensational  entanglements  of  lust  and  villainy  had  not 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR       II 

been  unknown  in  the  earlier  drama;  the  new  develop- 
ment was  the  result  of  an  effort  for  realistic  and  search- 
ing exploitation.  In  this  the  revenge  [)lay  was  in  keep- 
ing with  the  changing  taste  of  the  theatres,  manifested 
by  the  change  of  comedy  from  romantic  to  realistic 
themes,  by  the  interest  in  a  realistic  and  satirical  depic- 
tion of  London  manners,  and  by  a  s])ecial  fondness  for 
the  presentation  of  sexual  vice.  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure witnesses  some  influence  of  this  change  on  Shake- 
speare. Plays  like  Westward  Hoe  and  NortJnvard  Hoe, 
in  which  Webster  had  a  share,  and  some  of  Middleton's 
comedies  show  how  easily  this  new  realism  descended 
to  meeting  a  prurient  demand.  Other  plays,  like  Mar- 
ston's  Malcontent  and  Jonson's  Volpone  are  more 
worthy  representatives  of  a  serious  effort  to  expose  and 
chastise  sin.  If  comedy  followed  sin  and  vice,  tragedy 
probed  into  their  blackest  recesses.  Four  plays  writ-, 
ten  within  a  few  years  of  each  other  may  be  taken  as 
defining  this  new  development  of  the  revenge  play : 
Tourneur's  Revengefs  Tragedy,  the  anonymous 
Second  Maiden'' s  Tragedy,  and  Webster's  White  Devil 
and  The  Duchess  of  Malfi.  They  may  be  said  to 
create  a  type  of  tragedy  which  on  the  whole  remains 
the  prevailing  form  for  over  thirty  years,  until  the 
closing  of  the  theatres.  I  have  elsewhere  described 
in  sufficient  detail  the  characteristics  of  this  group  of 
plays,  and  I  may  perhaps  be  excused  for  quoting  the 
passage  here : 

"  Revenge  is  no  longer  the  main  motive,  but  is  a  subsid- 
iary element  in  complicated  stories  of  revolting  lust  and 
depravity.  Tragedy  has  become  the  representation  of 
vice  and  sin,  with  a  proneness  for  their  foulest  entangle- 
ments. In  one  play  a  brother  plays  the  part  of  pander  to 
his  sister;   in  another  a  father  to  his  daughter;    and  in  a 


12      JOHN    WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

third  a  mother  to  her  daughter.  Nor  is  revenge,  even  in  its 
subordinate  position,  the  simple  blood-f or- blood  requital 
that  it  is  in  Kyd.  It  may  be  for  various  causes  beside  mur- 
der; it  is  born  of  malice  rather  than  duty;  it  may  share  in 
the  moral  turpitude  of  the  rest  of  the  action.  The  ghost  no 
longer  directs  the  course  of  revenge,  and  may  disappear 
entirely.  In  Tlie  Revenger's  Tragedy  the  skull  of  the  be- 
trothed, as  the  skeleton  in  Hoffman,  takes  the  place  of  the 
apparition;  and  in  other  plays  the  duties  of  the  ghost  are 
minimized  or  farmed  out.  among  various  supernatural 
agents,  two  female  ghosts  appearing.  Hesitation  on  the 
part  of  the  avenger  does  not  appear.  Indeed,  his  entire 
character  has  changed.  He  may  be  a  villain,  as  in  Hoffman, 
or  the  villain's  accomplice,  or  one  of  Marston's  "mal- 
contents," or  a  combination  of  these  parts.  The  other 
leading  elements  in  the  Kydian  type  are  preserved.  Insan- 
ity of  various  forms,  real  and  pretended,  is  prominent.  In- 
trigue of  a  complicated  kind  abounds,  but  it  is  often  de- 
pendent, after  the  fashion  of  current  comedy,  largely  on 
improbable  disguises.  Deaths  are  as  frequent  as  ever  and 
more  horrible.  Much  of  the  old  stage  effect  reappears,  as 
in  the  masques,  funerals,  ghosts,  and  exhibition  of  dead 
bodies,  but  there  is  a  great  increase  in  the  number  and  in- 
genuity of  melodramatic  sensations.  Each  play  is  a  cham- 
ber of  horrors.  In  one  a  wiie  dies  from  kissing  the  pois- 
oned portrait  of  her  husband ;  in  another,  the  lustful  king 
sucks  poison  from  the  jaw  of  a  skull;  and  in  a  third,  from 
the  painted  lips  of  a  corpse.  Comets  blaze,  there  are  many 
portents,  the  time  is  ever  midnight,  the  scene  the  grave- 
yard, the  air  smells  of  corruption,  skulls  and  corpses  are  the 
dramatis  personae.  Every  means  seem  to  be  employed  to 
make  theatrically  effective  the  horrors  of  death  and  decay. 
And  once,  at  least,  these  means  are  used  with  tremendous 
power  in  the  riot  of  madness,  torture,  and  corruption  that 
preludes  the  death  of  the  Duchess  of  Malfi. 

"  All  or  nearly  all  of  the  active  characters  are  black  with 
sin.     The  extraordinary  exploitation  of  villainy  in  Eliza- 


JOHN    WEBSTER   AND    CYRIL   TOURNEUR       13 

bethan  tragedy  here  reaches  its  culmination.  The  arch 
villain  as  ruthlessly  devoted  to  crime  as  Hoffman,  the  ac- 
complice assiduous  in  revolting  baseness,  the  villain  touched 
by  remorse,  the  malcontent  reviling  human  life  —  all  these 
appear,  sometimes  all  combined  in  one  person,  and  play 
their  parts  along  with  unshrinking  prostitutes  and  lustful 
monarchs.  The  study  of  villainy,  however,  has  gained  in- 
tensity and  plausil)ility  over  the  earlier  plays.  If  none  of 
the  villains  take  to  themselves  much  individuality,  most  of 
therri  have  momeJits  of  dfamatic  impressiveness,  and  they 
are  intended  to  be  realistic.  They  are  drawn  with  an  ac- 
cumulation of  detail,  a  fondness  for  probing  into  deprav- 
ity, with  a  sense  of  the  dramatic  value  of  devilry,  and  with 
a  bitterness  and  cynicism  that  often  seem  sincere  and  search- 
ing. It  is  this  cynicism  which  gives  character  to  the  reflec- 
tive elements  of  these  plays.  The  Kydian  soliloquy  on  fate 
has  given  way  to  the  prevailing  satirical  and  bitter  tone  that 
finds  its  favourite  themes  in  the  sensuality  of  women  and  the 
hypocrisy  and  greed  of  courts,  arid  its  favounte^means  of 
expression  in  the  connotation  of  the  obscene  and  bestial."  ^ 

These  are,  I  believe,  the  more  striking  characteristics 
of  the  type  which  Toumeur  and  Webster  helped  to 
create.  They  recur  in  the  tragedies  of  Micldleton, 
Ford,  Massingcr,  and  Shirley;  and  after  the  Restora- 
tion in  the  plays  of  Nathaniel  Lee  and  others ;  and  they 
reappear  in  the  tragedies  of  romanticists  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  nineteenth  century.  While  se\-eral  plays 
have  been  grouped  together  because  of  their  salient 
resemblances,  their  differences  are  not  to  be  neglected. 
It  is  from  an  examination  of  these  differences  that  v/e 
may  best  arriA'e  at  a  distinction  between  Toumeur  and 
Webster. 

Only  two  plays  by  Cyril  Toumeur  survive,  —  The 
Atheist'' s   Tragedy   (pr.    161 1)    and    The    Revenger^ s 

'  Tragedy.     A.  H.  Thorndikc,  1908,  pp.  199-201. 


14      JOHN    WEBSTER    AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

Tragedy  (pr.  1607) ;  both  were  probably  acted  a  few 
years  before  either  of  Webster's  tragedies.  The  Athe- 
ist's Tragedy,  acted  about  1603,  tells  the  story  of  a 
son's  revenge  for  a  father,  which  it  unites  to  an  exceed- 
ingly gross  under-plot.  The  play  as  a  whole  is  both 
absurd  and  contemptible,  but  it  presents  an  original 
and  interesting  treatment  of  the  revenge  motive.  The 
ghost  is  a  Christian  one  who  commands  his  son  to 
leave  revenge  to  heaven.  The  son  after  a  struggle  ac- 
quiesces, and  is  saved  by  the  miraculous  suicide  of 
the  atheist  villain.  The  atheist's  soliloquies  make  a 
connected  commentary  on  the  ways  of  Providence. 
Though  the  play  is  largely  devoted  to  lust  and  vil- 
lainy, this  new  treatment  of  ghost  and  avenger  sug- 
gests many  points  of  comparison  with  Hamlet. 

The  Revenger's  Tragedy,  acted  1605- 1606,  follows 
rather  the  models  of  The  Malcontent  and  Hoffman. 
Dr.  Ward's  comment  on  the  plot  must  be  endorsed.  It 
is,  he  declares,  "in  its  sewer-like  windings  one  of  the 
blackest  and  most  polluting  devised  by  the  perverted 
imaginations  of  an  age  prone  to  feed  on  the  worst  scan- 
dals of  the  Italian  decadence."  ^  More  prurient,  and 
more  horrible  than  his  predecessors,  Tourneur  is  also 
more  imaginative.  His  picture  of  a  court  rotten  to  the 
core,  of  a  festering  sore  awaiting  the  knife,  must  be 
pronounced  the  product  of  an  original  and  dramatic 
imagination.  In  his  dramatic  structure  he  uses  the 
principles  of  contrast  and  climax  to  secure  startling 
effects.  He  delights  in  unspeakable  juxtapositions, 
and  he  piles  horror  on  horror  without  a  trace  of  relief. 
His  picture,  powerfully  conceived  and  daringly  con- 
structed, gains  its  colouring  from  his  vivid  life-like 
dialogue  and  his  brilliant,  hectic  imagery. 

^  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  A.  W.  Ward,  III.  69. 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR       15. 

When  it  comes  to  characterization,  however,  Tour- 
ncur's  imagination  is  at  a  loss.  He  is  essentially 
melodramatic;  he  can  build  up  thrilling  situations, 
and  can  make  them  vivid  through  i)hrase  and  figure; 
but  he  cannot  relate  them  to  his  characters.  In  The 
Atheist's  Tragedy  he  fails  utterly  to  translate  his  phil- 
osophical conception  into  terms  of  human  motive.  In 
The  Revengefs  Tragedy  you  are  never  sure  of  the 
actors.  Each  is  one  thing  at  one  moment,  and  another 
at  the  next.  Vendice,  the  malcontent,  is  a  moralizing 
avenger,  and  also  a  degenerate,  perverted  to  a  delight  in 
"pruriency  steeped  in  horrors."  The  mother  and  the 
daughter,  though  they  share  in  effective  dialogues,  are 
utterly  without  individuality.  Everything  is  theatrical 
and  melodramatic;^ and.everything  is  carried  to  excessj 
The  malcontent-avenger,  the  lustful  monarch,  the  bas- 
tard villain,  and  the  mother-bawd  are  monstrous  beyond 
what  their  roles  suggest.  To  borrow  his  own  words  — 
his  people,  drunk'with  crime,  "reel  to  hell";  his  trag- 
edy is  one  "to  make  an  old  man's  eyes  bloodshot." 

Without  individuality  or  consistency  of  characteriza- 
tion, the  play  is  without  moral  significance.  Therejs^ 
to  be  sure,  moralizing  enough,  and  his  plays  carry 
direct  lessons,  but  they  supply  no  premises  for  moral 
conclusions.  They  do  not  represent  life,  and  they  have 
nothing  of  value  to  say  about  life.  Their  people  are 
not  men  and  women ;  they  are  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and 
trolls.  His  plays  are  nightmares.  A  chamber  of  hor- 
rors is  what  he  succeeds  in  presenting,  and  that  is  all. 
Both  as  playwright  and  poet,  he  saw  the  world,  not 
populated  with  human  beings,  but  crowded  with 
ghastly  spectres.  For  these  he  could  find  startling 
scene  or  brilliant  image,  but  never  the  similitude  of  life. 

It  is  in  characterization  that  the  differences  between 


l6      JOHN    WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL    TOURNEUR 

Webster  and  Tourncur  are  most  obvious.  For  Web- 
ster studied  men  and  women,  and  subdued  the  con- 
ventionalities and  theatricalities  of  the  tragedy  of 
horror  to  the  presentation  of  individuality.  The 
differences  between  the  two  men,  however,  are  many. 
Webster  was  the  more  studious,  the  better  read,  and 
the  more  sincerely  devoted  to  his  art.  Where  Tour- 
neur  hurried  to  give  his  prodigious  ideas  imagery  and 
spectacle,  Webster,  we  may  believe,  worked  slowly  and 
laboriously,  making  the  most  of  his  knowledge  of  his 
great  contemporaries,  and  fitting  the  current  prac- 
tices of  the  stage  to  the  ways  and  utterances  of  char- 
acters over  whom  he  had  long  brooded. 

In  writing  tragedies  he  was  beholden,  not  only  to  the 
writers  whose  material  most  closely  resembled  his  own, 
to  Kyd,  Marston,  and  Tourneur,  but,  perhaps  more 
consciously,  to  the  greater  writers,  Jonson,  Chapman, 
and  Shakespeare.  Chapman,  whom  he  seems  to  single 
out  above  all  others  in  his  acknowledgment  of  indebt- 
edness already  quoted,  had  written  his  four  most  fa- 
mous tragedies  by  the  time  of  The  White  Devil,  two 
dealing  with  Bussy  D'Ambois  and  two  with  Biron. 
These  presented  studies  of  recent  French  history,  and 
were  clothed  in  a  blank  verse  almost  Shakespearean  in 
its  commingling  of  splendid  and  complicated  tropes 
with  pregnant  aphorisms.  They  seem  to  have  in- 
spired Webster  to  attempt  a  studied  and  heightened 
style.  There  are  few  passages  in  his  tragedies  that 
have  not  been  carefully  considered,  few  aphorisms  that 
have  not  been  painstakingly  moulded.  The  figures  in 
each  play  seem  deliberately  chosen  in  view  of  the  gen- 
eral theme  and  tone.  There  is  a  manifest  care  to 
create  details  in  harmony  with  the  main  picture. 
Moreover,  Webster,  like  Chapman  and  Jooson,  at- 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR       ly 

tempts  the  elaborate  and  comprehensive  deUneation  of 
character.     Tragedy,  in  his  view  as  w^ell  as  theirs, 
involved  the  full  portraiture  of  extraordinary  figures. 
In  these  respects,  too,  he  must  have  learned  something 
from  Shakespeare;    for,  though  specific  indebtedness 
is  not  clear,  the  processes  of  his  art  resemble  Shake-      > 
speare's.    Like.the. latter,  he-w-as  absorbed  in  the  study     •     '' 
of  the  effects  of  crime  upon  character,  and  he  acquired 
the  power  of  realizing  these  momentarily  with  amaz-Z^IJ^*^ 
ing  dramatic  truth.     In  fine,  Webster,  in  spite  of  his       , 
attachment  to  a  type  of  tragedy  theatrically  popular 
and  absurdly  unreal,  was  emulous,  not  of  the  masters  of 
melodrama,  but  of  those  who  were  making  tragedy  the 
revelation  of  tlie  philosophy  and  poetry  of  human  suf- 
fering and  ruin. 

He  nevertheless  adhered  closely  to  the  externals  of 
the  tragedy  of  revenge.  The  description  of  the  type 
just  given  applies  to  his  plays  as  closely  as  to  Tour- 
ncur's.  There  is  hardly  a  scene  or  a  situation  in  his 
two  great  plays  that  cannot  be  substantially  duplicated 
elsewhere.  When  he  departs  from  the  paraphernalia 
of  Marston  and  Tourneur,  it  is  to  return  to  the  older 
technic  of  Kyd  and  Chapman.  Keeping  this  old  ma- 
terial, he  lacked  the  dramatic  ingenuity  to  work  it  over 
into  fresh  surprises.  He  had  not  the  peculiar  talent 
that  could  light-heartedly  bind  together  murders, 
ghosts,  and  skeletons  into  a  rip-roarer.  And  his  plays 
lack  the  essential  elements  of  structure.  He  could  not 
reduce  his  matter  to  a  coherent  dramatic  fable.  He 
was  not  a  great  playwright.  As  far  as  technic  is 
concerned,  he  was  hardly  more  than  a  copyist  and 
compiler,  borrowing  the  effects  and  devices  of  his 
predecessors,  and  saved  from  their  worst  excesses  by 
the  gravity  and  veracity  of  his  imagination. 


1 8      JOHN    WEBSTER   AND    CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

His  great  plays  make  their  appeal  to  readers  to-day 
and  must  have  won  their  success  on  the  Elizabethan 
stage  largely  through  the  interest  excited  in  their  lead- 
ing characters.  Webster's  characterization  is  not  ana- 
lytic, scientific,  explanatory.  We  do  not  entirely  com- 
prehend the  motives  of  his  people;  neither  did  he. 
He  was  making  over  Italian  stories  for  the  stage,  fol- 
lowing a  certain  fashion  in  the  drama,  creating  parts 
along  certain  well-tried  lines  for  certain  actors.  But,  if 
he  was  not  a  good  constructor  of  plays,  he  had  an  ex- 
traordinary power  of  visualizing  and  integrating  the 
parts  that  he  created.  He  made  white  devils,  tortured 
women,  moralizing  panders,  and  so  did  others;  but 
Webster  knew  how  his  wretches  looked,  and  he  could 
give  them  authentic  speech.  Their  reality  and  impres- 
siveness  are  undoubtedly  suited  to  the  stage.  They 
were  fitted  to  certain  actors,  and  conceived  as  parts  of 
crises  of  passion,  of  climaxes  of  sensation.  But  their 
interest  to  Webster  and  even  to  his  own  time  was  some- 
thing other  than  that  of  stage  figures.  In  an  age 
familiar  with  lust  and  murder  in  their  more  violent 
forms,  stories  of  Italian  crime  and  intrigue  had  the  fas- 
cination of  reality  as  well  as  of  horror.  These  stories 
gave  to  the  stage  its  spectacles  and  thrills,  and  they 
directed  the  greater  dramatists  to  a  curious  and 
searching  inquiry  into  human  nature.  Like  Shake- 
speare, Webster  made  his  tragedies  of  horror  his  means 
of  approach  to  an  interrogation  and  criticism  of  life. 
He  is  ever  probing  his  dramatis  personas  with  the 
query.  What  is  the  meaning  of  life? 

The  most  famous  of  Webster's  characters  are  his 
two  women.  White  devils  have  been  common  in  the 
drama,  and  the  union  of  beauty  and  depravity  perhaps 
offers  too   patent   an  opportunity   for  stage  effects. 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR       19 

Webster's  white  devil  (who  bears  no  resemblance  to 
the  real  Vittoria)  is  undoubtedly  drawn  for  the  theatre. 
She  is  a  part  of  the  situations;  she  never  speechifies 
unless  the  situation  requires  it;  and  she  responds  mag- 
nificently to  the  great  crises.  At  the  same  time  she  is 
the  product  of  a  painstaking  realism  that  makes  every 
detail  suggestive  of  actual  life.  And  the  portrait,  so 
precisely  drawn,  is  made  memorable  by  the  splendid 
poetry  of  her  discourse.  Take,  for  example,  the  begin- 
ning of  the  play,  where  her  speeches  are  studiedly  com- 
monplace until  she  describes  her  dream,  revealing  her 
nature  and  the  impending  crimes,  and  symbolic  of  the 
whole  play  in  its  gloomy  imagery  as  well  as  in  its  mat- 
ter. 

"When  to  my  rescue  there  arose,  methought, 
A  whirlwind,  which  let  fall  a  massy  arm 
From  that  strong  plant  ; 

And  both  were  struck  dead  by  that  sacred  yew, 
In  that  base  shallow  grave  that  was  their  due." 

Or  take  her  in  the  famous  trial  scene  when  she  meets 
all  accusations  with  that  startling  effrontery  which 
Charles  Lamb  found  "innocence-resembling."  We 
are  reminded,  not  of  innocence,  but  of  many  a  woman 
in  actual  life  facing  trial  with  a  shamelessness  that  is 
almost  heroic.  The  consistency  of  the  character  is 
so  maintained  throughout  that  there  is  no  speech  which 
violates  it;  .hardly  an  important  speech  which  does  not 
reveal  it.  You  can  gather  from  her  speeches,  as  from 
those  of  Shakespeare's  Cleopatra,  a  series  of  phrases 
and  metaphors  that  reproduce  her  without  aid  of 
story  and  scene.  Recall  the  scene  of  Brachiano's 
death.  During  his  ravings,  how  few  and  simple  are 
her  words,  and  yet  how  revealing !     And  in  the  last 


20      JOHN    WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL    TOURNEUR 

complicated  and  prolonged  scene  where  all  are  killed, 
how  splendid  as  poetry  and  how  consistent  with  her 
character  are  her  dying  defiances ! 

"My  soul,  like  to  a  ship  in  a  black  storm, 
Is  driven,  I  know  not  whither." 

The  Duchess  of  Malfi  is  a  figure  far  less  suited  to  the 
drama.  She  does  not  play  an  active  part.  She  does 
not  dominate  and  direct  the  action ;  she  is  only  a  suf- 
ferer. But  Webster's  triumph  is  again  that  of  com- 
pelling sensational  clap-trap  and  abnormal  cruelty  to 
assist  in  the  revelation  of  real  human  beings.  The 
motives  and  emotions  of  the  duchess  are  not  primarily 
sensational  or  unusual ;  she  is  only  a  likable  and  nor- 
mal woman  who  marries  a  worthy  man  who  is  her 
social  inferior.  But  in  the  ordeal  of  gibbering  mad- 
men and  dismembered  corpses  she  summons  that  for- 
titude with  which  so  many  of  her  si'sters  have  known 
how  to  meet  suffering  and  torment.  Again  we  have 
that  union  of  dramatic  fitness,  of  detailed  truth  to  life, 
and  of  superb  phrase  which  render  Webster's  char- 
acterization comparable  with  Shakespeare's.  Here 
is  the  most  terrible  of  all  the  chambers  of  horror  that 
the  Elizabethan  imagination  could  create,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it,  a  real,  a  simple,  and  an  undaunted  woman : 

"  I  am  Duchess  of  Malfi  still." 

Hardly  less  extraordinary  than  Webster' s,women  are 
his  villains,  Flamineo  and  Bosola.  If  they  are  more 
stagy  and  less  consistently  individualized,  it  is  not 
because  Webster  did  not  try  to  make  them  real.  Fla- 
mineo is  not  made  to  live;  his  motives  arc  hopelessly 
contradictory;  but  he  dies  with  an  exhibition  of  tre- 
mendous effrontery  scarcely  equalled  by  any  of  the 


JOHN   WEBSTER    AND   CYRIL   TODRNEUR      21 

villains  of  literature.  Of  the  much  discussed  Bosola,,  I 
agree  with  Mr.  Stoll  that,  like  Flamineo,  he  represents  . 
"two  incongruous,  incompatible  roles — ^  malcontent 
and  tool-villain."  These  had  become  stoclc  types  on 
the  stage  —  the  cynical  moralist  who  denounces  and  ex- 
poses unrighteousness,  and  the  conscienceless  accom- 
plice who  sells  himself  to  his  wicked  master,  but  is" 
tricked  and  receives  death  as  his  only  reward.  The 
combination  of  the  two  parts  made  an  effective  monster 
for  the  Elizabethan  stage,  but  it  manifestly  violates  all 
psychology.  Webster  as  usual  accepted  the  theatrical 
part,  but  he  recognized,  as  Mr,  Stoll  notes,  its  incon- 
sistency, and  strove,  though  not  with  entire  success,  to 
integrate  the  conflicting  traits.  Bosola  represents  the 
conflict  of  two  diverse  natures.  He  goes  on  multiply- 
ing wickedness  and  giving  his  devil  full  play,  until  he 
finally  heeds  his  good  angel  and  undertakes  one  last 
deed  of  virtue.  If  this  conception  is  not  adequately 
motived,  it  has  enough  human  resemblance  to  exercise 
an  uncanny  fascination;  and  it  has  been  perpetuated 
in  modern  fiction. 

Bosola,  like  the  other  persons  of  Webster's  tragedies, 
is  conceived  with  a  full  recognition  of  moral  values,    \  | 
though  these  cannot  always  be  harmonized  with  th^xV/ 
functions  of  the  stage  part.     Webster  is  eager  enough      j\ 
to  mix  the  vile  and  the  noble,  but  he  never,  like  Tour- 
neur,  fails  to  distinguish  between  them.     He  is,  in  fact, 
so  anxious  to  keep  in  the  light  of  the  moral  law  that  he 
often  forces  his  moralizing  upon  us;  but  his  great 
virtue,   in  comparison  with  the  other  writers  of  his 
school,  is  that  he  creates  his  dramas,  not  merely  as 
series  of  stage  sensations,  nor  yet  as  congeries  of  hor- 
rible phantoms,  but  as  stories  of  the  relations  of  men  to 
men.     The  ties  and  obligations  of  human  society  are 


22      JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL   TOURNEUR 

always  in  his  view.  Even  when  he  is  dealing  with 
loathsome  deeds  and  despicable  wretches,  he  can  still 
impel  us  to  a  strengthened  respect  for  duty,  virtue,  and 
sympathy. 

"  Frail,  on  frail  rafts,  across  wide-wallowing  waves, 
Shapes  here  and  there  of  child  and  mother  pass." 

He  summons  his  villains,  panders,  assassins,  and 
sensualists  to  a  moral  tribunal.  His  study  of  character 
proceeds  by  the  method  of  the  Inquisition.  He  arrives 
at  truth  through  torture,  but  he  secures  answers  that 
come  from  the  soul.  The  replies  to  his  insistent  query 
—  What  is  the  meaning  of  life  ?  —  do  not  comprehend 
life,  they  may  not  comprehend  Webster's  own  beliefs, 
but  they  do  provide  an  impressive  view  of  one  domain 
in  the  tragedy  of  life.  They  reveal  its  physical  horrors, 
its  moral  degradations,  the  blackness  of  its  vice  and 
cruelty,  the  helplessness  of  its  virtue  and  righteousness. 
Brood  as  Webster  did  over  stories  of  revolting  crime, 
and  you  must  find  much  in  life  and  death  that  is  both 
horrible  and  hopeless.  This  is  the  province  which  his 
tragedies  make  their  own.  But  Webster,  even  when 
he  presents  the  last  view  of  a  lost  soul,  sees  a  glimmer 
of  the  light  of  righteousness  across  the  blackness. 
Thus,  Bosola  dies : 

"  We  are  only  like  dead  walls,  or  vaulted  graves, 
That  ruined,  yield  no  echo.     Fare  you  well. 
It  may  be  pain,  but  no  harm  to  me  to  die 
In  so  good  a  quarrel.     O  this  gloomy  world! 
In  what  a  shadow,  or  deep  pit  of  darkness. 
Doth  womanish  and  fearful  mankind  live ! 
Let  worthy  minds  ne'er  stagger  in  distrust 
To  suffer  death  or  shame  for  what  is  just: 
Mine  is  another  voyage." 


JOHN   WEBSTER   AND   CYRIL  TOURNEUR      23 

Appius  and  Virginia  stands  somewhat  apart  from 
the  other  two  tragedies.  Apparently  written  much 
later,  it  deserts  the  horrific  school  for  other  models, 
and  it  reflects  a  tamer  imagination  and  a  more  timid 
study  of  life.  Webster  was,  perhaps,  restrained  from 
daring  innovation  by  his  historical  material  and  by  the 
great  examples  of  Shakespeare's  Roman  plays.  At 
any  rate,  though  the  play  retains  many  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  his  earlier  tragedies,  particularly  in  its  style 
and  its  treatment  of  Appius,  it  does  not  distinguish 
itself  greatly  from  contemporary  plays.  By  its  date, 
tragedy  was  conforming  to  established  traditions  and 
methods,  and  all  its  representatives  take  on  a  certain 
sameness.  Appius  and  Virginia  does  not  escape  this 
lack  of  individual  distinction.  One  could  almost  be- 
lieve that  it  was  the  work  of  Massinger,  or  of  another. 
Yet  it  must  be  ranked  among  the  best  of  Roman  his- 
torical plays  outside  of  Shakespeare;  and  it  well  de- 
serves the  praise  that  Dyce  aw^ards  it  in  one  of  those 
critical  dicta  on  which  he  so  rarely  ventured  but  which 
are  so  invariably  well-considered  and  judicious. 
"This  drama  is  so  remarkable  for  its  simplicity,  its 
deep  pathos,  its  unobtrusive  beauties,  its  singleness  of 
plot,  and  the  easy  unimpeded  march  of  its  story,  that 
perhaps  there  are  readers  who  will  prefer  it  to  any  other 
of  our  author's  productions."  ^ 

But  no  admirer  of  Webster  will  so  prefer  it.  You 
cannot  put  Appius  and  Virginia  above  his  other  trage- 
dies, unless  you  deny  the  greatness  of  his  genius,  and 
indeed  the  greatness  of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  The 
White  Devil  and  The  Duchess  of  Malfi  have  faults  that 
Appius  and  Virginia  lacks,  an  overplus  of  horrors  and 
a  confused  structure.     But  these  are  the  common  de- 

^  Tfie  Works  of  John  Webster,  A.  Dyce.     Introduction. 


24     JOHN    WEBSTER    AND   CYRIL  TOURNEUR 

fects  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  which  are  abundantly 
recompensed  by  its  wealth  of  life  and  its  poetry;  and 
in  these  respects  Appius  and  Virginia  is  the  inferior 
of  the  other  plays.  Their  triumphs  it  shares  only  in 
part  —  their  dramatic  realization  of  vice  and  death  and 
suffering  as  parts  of  life,  their  creation  of  an  Inferno 
and  discovery  of  human  beings  therein,  and  the  un- 
forgettable poetry  with  which  their  tortured  beings 
speak. 


/v.    ^^^C^^x^^t^^ 


THE  WHITE  DEVIL 

OR 

YITTORIA  COROMBONA 


THE   WHITE   DEVIL 

The  plot  of  the  The  White  Devil  is  based  upon  actual  histor- 
ical events,  though  the  personages  here  represented  have,  for 
dramatic  reasons,  been  considerably  exaggerated.  The  case  of 
Vittoria  Accoramboni,  who  was  murdered  in  1585,  was  a  noto- 
rious one  and  excited  much  feeling  and  discussion.  There  were 
many  versions  of  the  story,  and  Webster  seems  not  to  have  had 
access  to  information  at  first  hand.  A  thorough  study  of  the 
sources  of  the  play  may  be  found  in  the  Modern  Language 
Quarterly,  cxi.  12  (1900).  There  are  four  early  editions  of  the 
text :  the  edition  of  161 2,  here  reproduced  with  certain  emenda- 
tions of  recognized  authority,  and  the  editions  of  1631,  1665, 
and  1672. 


27 


TO    THE    READER 

In  publishing  this  tragedy,  I  do  but  challenge  to 
myself  that  liberty  which  other  men  have  ta'en  before 
me  :  not  that  I  affect  praise  by  it,  for  nos  hcec  novimns 
esse  nihil ;  only,  since  it  was  acted  in  so  dull  a  time  of 
winter,  presented  in  so  open  and  black  a  theatre,  that 
it  wanted  (that  which  is  the  only  grace  and  setting-out 
of  a  tragedy)  a  full  and  understanding  auditory ;  and 
that,  since  that  time,  I  have  noted  most  of  the  people 
that  come  to  that  play-house  resemble  those  ignorant 
asses  who,  visiting  stationers'  shops,  their  use  is  not 
to  inquire  for  good  books,  but  new  books ;  I  present 
it  to  the  general  view  with  this  confidence: 

Nee  i-honcos  metues  maligniorum, 
Nee  scombris  tunieas  dahis  molestas." 

If  it  be  objected  this  is  no  true  dramatic  poem,  I  shall 
easily  confess  it ;  non  potes  in  nugas  dicere  plura  meas, 
ipse  ego  quam  dixi.  Willingly,  and  not  ignorantly,  in 
this  kind  have  I  faulted  :  for,  should  a  man  present  to 
such  an  auditory  the  most  sententious  tragedy  that  ever 
was  written,  observing  all  the  critical  laws,  as  height 
of  style,  and  gravity  of  person,  enrich  it  with  the  senten- 
tious Chorus,  and,  as  it  were,  liven  death  in  the  passion- 
ate and  weighty  Nuntius  ;  yet,  after  all  this  divine  rapture, 
O  dura  messo?-i/v!  ilia,  the  breath  that  comes  from  the 
uncapable  multitude  is  able  to  poison  it ;  and,  ere  it  be 
acted,  let  the  author  resolve  to  fix  to  every  scene  this 
of  Horace : 

Hree  poreis  hodie  comedenda  relinques." 
28 


THE    WHITE    DEVIL  29 

To  those  who  report  I  was  a  long  time  in  finishing 
this  tragedy,  I  confess,  I  do  not  write  with  a  goose  quill 
winged  with  two  feathers ;  and  if  they  will  needs  make 
it  my  fault,  I  must  answer  them  with  that  of  Euripides 
to  Alcestides,  a  tragic  writer.  Alcestides  objecting  that 
Euripides  had  only,  in  three  days,  composed  three  verses, 
whereas  himself  had  written  three  hundred,  "  Thou  tell- 
est  truth,"  quoth  he,  "but  here's  the  difference,  —  thine 
shall  only  be  read  for  three  days,  whereas  mine  shall 
continue  three  ages." 

Detraction  is  the  sworn  friend  to  ignorance  :  for  mine 
own  part,  I  have  ever  truly  cherished  my  good  opinion 
of  other  men's  M'orthy  labours;  especially  of  that  full 
and  heightened  style  of  Master  Chapman  ;  the  laboured 
and  understanding  works  of  Master  Jonson  ;  the  no  less 
worthy  composures  of  the  both  worthily  excellent  Master 
Beaumont  and  Master  Fletcher ;  and  lastly  (without 
wrong  last  to  be  named),  the  right  happy  and  copious 
industry  of  Master  Shakespeare,  Master  Dekker,  and 
Master  Heywood  ;  wishing  what  I  write  may  be  read 
by  their  light ;  protesting  that,  in  the  strength  of  mine 
own  judgement,  I  know  them  so  worthy,  that  though  I 
rest  silent  in  my  own  work,  yet  to  most  of  theirs  I  dare 
(without  flattery)  fix  that  of  Martial : 

Non  norunt  hsc  monumenta  mori. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

A 

MoNTiCELSO,  a  Cardinal;  afterwards  Pope  Paul  the  Fourth. 
Francisco  de  Medicis,  Duke  of  Florence;  in  the  Fifth  Act  disguised 

for  a  Moor,  under  the  name  of  Mulinassar. 
Brachiano,  otherwise  Paulo  Giordano  Ursini,  Duke  of  Brachiano, 

Husband  to  Isabella,  and  in  love  with  Vittoria. 
Giovanni,  his  Son  by  Isabella. 
LoDOVico,  an  Italian  Count,  but  decayed. 

Antonelli,      1      his    Friends,    and    Dependants   of   the    Duke   of 
Gasparo,         J  Florence. 

Camillo,  Husband  to  Vittoria. 
Hortensio,  one  of  Brachiano's  Officers. 
IMarcello,  an  Attendant  of  the  Duke  of  Florence,  and  Brother  to 

Vittoria. 
Flamineo,  his  Brother;  Secretary  to  Brachiano. 
Jaques,  a  Moor,  Servant  to  Giovanni. 
Ambassadors,  Courtiers,  Lawyers,   Officers,   Physicians,  Conjurer, 

Armourer,  Attendants. 

Isabella,  Sister  to  Francisco  de  Medicis,  and  Wife  to  Brachiano. 
Vittoria  Corombona,  a  Venetian  Lady;  first  married  to  Camillo, 

afterwards  to  Brachiano. 
Cornelia,  Mother  to  Vittoria,  Flamineo,  and  Marcello. 
Zanche,  a  Moor,  Servant  to  Vittoria. 

Scene  —  Italy 


30 


THE  WHITE  I)E\TL 

ACT  THE   FIRST 

Scene  I° 

Enter  Count  Lodovico,  Antonelli,  and  Gasparo 

Lod.    Banished  ! 

Ant.  It  grieved  me  much  to  hear  the  sentence. 

Lod.  Ha,  ha,  0  Democritus,  thy  gods 
That  govern  the  whole  world  !  courtly  reward 
And  punishment.     Fortune's  a  right  whore : 
If  she  give  aught,  she  deals  it  in  small  parcels. 
That  she  may  take  away  all  at  one  swoop. 
This  'tis  to  have  great  enemies  !     God  'quite  them. 
Your  wolf  no  longer  seems  to  be  a  wolf 
Than  when  she's  hungry. 

Gas.  You  term  those  enemies, 

Are  men  of  princely  rank. 

Lod.  O  I  pray  for  them :  lo 

The  violent  thunder  is  adored  by  those 
Are  pashed  in  pieces  by  it. 

Ant.  Come,  my  lord, 

You  are  justly  doomed ;  look  but  a  little  back 
Into  your  former  life :  you  have  in  three  years 
Ruined  the  noblest  earldom. 

Gas.  Your  followers 

Have  swallowed  you,  like  mummia,"  and  being  sick 
With  such  unnatural  and  horrid  physic, 
Vomit  you  up  i'  th'  kennel. 

"  A  superior  n  in  the  text  indicates  a  note  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 
31 


32  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  [act  I 

Anl.  All  the  damnable  degrees 

Of  drinking  have  you  staggered  through.     One  citizen 
Is  lord  of  two  fair  manors,  called  you  master,  20 

Only  for  caviare." 

Gas.  Those  noblemen 

Which  were  invited  to  your  prodigal  feasts, 
(Wherein  the  phoenix  scarce  could  scape  your  throats)" 
Laugh  at  your  misery,  as  fore-deeming  you 
An  idle  meteor,  which  drawn  forth  the  earth," 
Would  be  soon  lost  i'  the  air. 

Ant.  Jest  upon  you, 

And  say  you  were  begotten  in  an  earthquake ; 
You  have  ruined  such  fair  lordships. 

Lod.  Very  good. 

This  well  goes  with  two  buckets :  I  must  tend 
The  pouring  out  of  either. 

Gas.  Worse  than  these.  30 

You  have  acted  certain  murders  here  in  Rome, 
Bloody  and  full  of  horror. 

Lod.  'Las,  they  were  flea-bitings : 

Why  took  they  not  my  head  then  ? 

Gas.  O  my  lord  ! 

The  law  doth  sometimes  mediate,  thinks  it  good 
Not  ever  to  steep  violent  sins  in  blood : 
This  gentle  penance  may  both  end  your  crimes. 
And  in  the  example  better  these  bad  times. 

Lod.   So,  but  I  wonder  then  some  great  men  scape 
This  banishment :  there's  Paulo  Giordano  Ursini, 
The  duke  of  Brachiano,  now  lives  in  Rome,  40 

And  by  close  panderism  seeks  to  prostitute 
The  honour  of  Vittoria  Corombona : 
Vittoria,  she  that  might  have  got  my  pardon 
For  one  kiss  to  the  duke. 

Ant.  Have  a  full  man  within  you : 

We  see  that  trees  bear  no  such  pleasant  fruit 
There  where  they  grew  first,  as  where  they  are  new  set. 
Perfumes,  the  more  they  are  chafed,  the  more  they  render 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  33 

Their  pleasing  scents :  and  so  affiction 
Exprcsseth  virtue  fully,  whether  true, 
Or  else  adulterate. 

Lod.  Leave  your  painted  comforts ;         5° 

I'll  make  Italian  cut-works"  in  their  guts 
If  ever  I  return. 

Gas.  Osir! 

Lod.  I  am  patient. 

I  have  seen  some  ready  to  be  executed, 
Give  pleasant  looks,  and  money,  and  ti;row  familiar 
With  the  knave  hangman  ;  so  do  I ;  I  thank  them, 
And  would  account  them  nobly  merciful, 
Would  they  dispatch  me  quickly. 

Ant.  Fare  you  well ; 

We  shall  find  time,  I  doubt  not,  to  repeal 
Your  banishment. 

Lod.  I  am  ever  bound  to  you. 

[A  flourish  of  trumpets  announcing  the  Duke. 

This  is  the  world's  alms  ;  pray  make  use  of  it.  60 

Great  men  sell  sheep,  thus  to  be  cut  in  pieces, 

When  first  they  have  shorn  them  bare,  and  sold  their 

fleeces.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IP 

Enter  Brachiano,  Camillo,  Flamineo,  Vittoria 

Brack.   Your  best  of  rest. 

Vit.  Unto  my  lord  the  duke. 

The  best  of  welcome.     More  lights :  attend  the  duke. 

[Exeunt  Camillo  and  Vittoria. 

Brack.   Flamineo. 

Flam.  My  lord. 

Brack.  Quite  lost,  Flamineo. 

Flam.   Pursue  your  noble  wishes,  I  am  prompt 
As  lightning  to  your  service.     O  my  lord  ! 
The  fair  Vittoria,  my  happy  sister, 


34  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  i 

Shall  give  you  present  audience.     Gentlemen,  [Whisper. 
Let  the  caroch  go  on,  and  'tis  his  pleasure 
You  put  out  all  your  torches,  and  depart. 

Brack.   Are  we  so  happy  ? 

Flam.  Can  it  be  otherwise  ?       lo 

Observed  you  not  to-night,  my  honoured  lord, 
Which  way  soe'er  you  went,  she  threw  her  eyes  ? 
I  have  dealt  already  with  her  chambermaid, 
Zanche  the  Moor ;  and  she  is  wondrous  proud 
To  be  the  agent  for  so  high  a  spirit. 

Brack.   We  are  happy  above  thought,  because  'bove 
merit.  i6 

Flam.  'Bove  merit !  we  may  now  talk  freely :  'bove 
merit !  what  is't  you  doubt  ?  her  coyness  !  that's  but  the 
superficies  of  lust  most  women  have ;  yet  why  should 
ladies  blush  to  hear  that  named,  which  they  do  not  fear 
to  handle  ?  O  they  are  politic ;  they  know  our  desire 
is  increased  by  the  difficulty  of  enjoying ;  whereas  satiety 
is  a  blunt,  weary,  and  drowsy  passion.  If  the  buttery- 
hatch  at  court  stood  continually  open,  there  would  be 
nothing  so  passionate  crowding,  nor  hot  suit  after  the 
beverage. 

Brack.   O  but  her  jealous  husband  —  27 

Flam.   Hang  him ;  a  gilder  that  hath  his  brains  perished 
with  quicksilver  is    not  more  cold   in  the  liver."    The 
great  barriers  moulted  not  more  feathers"  than  he  hath 
shed  hairs,  by  the  confession  of  his  doctor.     An  Irish 
gamester  that  will  play  himself  naked,"  and  then  wage 
all  downwards,  at  hazard,  is  not  more  venturous.     So 
unable  to  please  a  woman,  that,  like  a  Dutch  doublet, 
all  his  back  is  shrunk  into  his  breeches. 
Shroud  you  within  this  closet,  good  my  lord; 
Some  trick  now  must  be  thought  on  to  divide 
My  brother-in-law  from  his  fair  bedfellow. 

Brack.   0  should  she  fail  to  come!  39 

Flam.  I  must  not  have  your  lordship  thus  unwisely 
amorous.     I  myself  have  loved  a  lady,  and  pursued  her 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  35 

with  a  great  deal  of  under-age  protestation,  whom  some 
three  or  four  gallants  that  have  enjoyed  would  with  all 
their  hearts  have  been  glad  to  have  been  rid  of.  'Tis 
just  like  a  summer  bird-cage  in  a  garden :  the  birds  that 
are  without  despair  to  get  in,  and  the  birds  that  are 
within  despair  and  are  in  a  consumption,  for  fear  they 
shall  never  get  out.     Away,  away,  my  lord. 

[Exit  Braciuano. 

Efiter  Camillo 

See  here  he  comes.     This  fellow  by  his  apparel 

Some  men  would  judge  a  politician ;  5° 

But  call  his  wit  in  question,  you  shall  find  it 

Merely  an  ass  in's  foot-cloth."     How  now,  brother  ? 

What,  travelling  to  bed  to  your  kind  wife  ? 

Cam.   I  assure  you,  brother,  no ;  my  voyage  lies 
More  northerly,  in  a  far  colder  clime. 
I  do  not  well  remember,  I  protest. 
When  I  last  lay  with  her. 

Flam.  Strange  you  should  lose  your  count. 

Cflw.   We  never  lay  together,  but  ere  morning" 
There  grew  a  flaw"  between  us. 

Flam.  'Thad  been  your  part 

To  have  made  up  that  flaw. 

Cam.  True,  but  she  loathes       60 

I  should  be  seen  in't. 

Flam.  Why,  sir,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Cam.   The  duke  your  master  visits  me,  I  thank  him ; 
And  I  perceive  how,  like  an  earnest  bowler, 
He  very  passionately  leans  that  way 
He  should  have  his  bowl  run. 

Flam.  I  hope  you  do  not  think  — 

Cam.   That  nobleman  bowl  booty  ?  "  faith,  his  cheek 
Hath  a  most  excellent  bias:    it  would  fain 
Jump  with  my  mistress." 

Flam.  Will  you  be  an  ass, 


36  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  i 

Despite  your  Aristotle  ?  or  a  cuckold, 

Contrary  to  your  Ephemerides,  70 

Which  shows  you  under  what  a  smiling  planet 

You  were  first  swaddled  ? 

Cam.  Pew  wew,  sir ;   tell  not  me 

Of  planets  nor  of  Ephemerides. 
A  man  may  be  made  cuckold  in  the  day-time, 
When  the  stars  eyes  are  out. 

Flam.  Sir,  God  b'wi'  you ; 

I  do  commit  you  to  your  pitiful  pillow 
Stuffed  with  horn-shavings." 

Cam.  Brother ! 

Flam.  God  refuse  me," 

Might  I  advise  you  now,  your  only  course 
Were  to  lock  up  your  wife. 

Cam.  'Twere  very  good. 

Flam.   Bar  her  the  sight  of  revels. 

Cam.  Excellent.  80 

Flam.  Let  her  not  go  to  church, 'but,  like  a  hound 
In  leam,°  at  your  heels. 

Cam.  'Twere  for  her  honour. 

Flam.   And  so  you  should  be  certain  in  one  fortnight, 
Despite  her  chastity  or  innocence, 
To  be  cuckolded,  which  yet  is  in  suspense. 
This  is  my  counsel,  and  I  ask  no  fee  for't. 

Cam.   Come,  you  know  not  where  my  night-cap  wrings 
me.  87 

Flam.  Wear  it  a'  th'  old  fashion ;  let  your  large  ears 
come  through,  it  will  be  more  easy.  Nay,  I  will  be  bit- 
ter :  bar  your  wife  of  her  entertainment :  women  are 
more  willingly  and  more  gloriously  chaste,  when  they 
are  least  restrained  of  their  liberty.  It  seems  you  would 
be  a  fine  capricious,  mathematically  jealous  coxcomb ;  take 
the  height  of  your  own  horns  with  a  Jacob's  staff,  afore 
they  are  up."  These  politic  inclosures  for  paltry  mutton, 
make  more  rebellion  in  the  flesh,  than  all  the  provocative 
electuaries  doctors  have  uttered  since  last  jubilee." 


SCENE  II]  THE    WHITE   DEVIL  37 

Cam.   This  doth  not  physic  me.  98 

Flam.  It  seems  you  are  jealous:  I'll  show  you  the 
error  of  it  by  a  familiar  example :  I  have  seen  a  pair  of 
spectacles  fashioned  with  such  perspective  art,  that  lay 
down  but  one  twelve  pence  a'  th'  board,  'twill  appear  as 
if  there  were  twenty ;  now  should  you  wear  a  pair  of 
these  spectacles,  and  see  your  wife  tying  her  shoe,  you 
would  imagine  twenty  hands  were  taking  up  of  your 
wife's  clothes,  and  this  would  put  you  into  a  horrible 
causeless  fury.  107 

Cam.   The  fault  here,  sir,  is  not  in  the  eyesight. 

Flam.  True,  but  they  that  have  the  yellow  jaundice 
think  all  objects  they  look  on  to  be  yellow.  Jealousy 
is  worse;  her  fits  presenting  to  a  man,  Uke  so  many 
bubbles  in  a  bason  of  water,  twenty  several  crabbed 
faces,  many  times  makes  his  own  shadow  his  cuckold- 
maker.  114 
Enter  Vittoria  Corombona 

See,  she  comes;  what  reason  have  you  to  be  jealous 
of  this  creature?  what  an  ignorant  ass  or  flattering 
knave  might  he  be  counted,  that  should  write  sonnets 
to  her  eyes,  or  call  her  brow  the  snow  of  Ida,  or  ivory 
of  Corinth ;  or  compare  her  hair  to  the  blackbird's  bill," 
when  'tis  like  the  blackbird's  feather?  this  is  all.  Be 
wise ;  I  will  make  you  friends,  and  you  shall  go  to  bed 
together.  Marry,  look  you,  it  shall  not  be  your  seeking. 
Do  you  stand  upon  that,  by  any  means :  walk  you 
aloof ;  I  would  not  have  you  seen  in't.  —  Sister  (my  lord 
attends  you  in  the  banquetting-house)°  your  husband 
is  wondrous  discontented. 

Vit.  I  did  nothing  to  displease  him  ;  I  carved  to  him 
at  supper-time.  128 

Flam.  You  need  not  have  carved  him,  in  faith ;  (they 
say  he  is  a  capon  already.  I  must  now  seemingly  fall 
out  with  you.)  Shall  a  gentleman  so  well  descended  as 
Camillo  (a  lousy  slave,  that  within  this  twenty  years 


38  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  i 

rode  with  the  black  guard  in  the  duke's  carriage,  'mongst 
spits  and  dripping-pans  !)  — 

Cam.   Now  he  begins  to  tickle  her.  135 

Flam.  An  excellent  scholar  (one  that  hath  a  head  filled 
with  calves'  brains  without  any  sage  in  them,  come  crouch- 
ing in  the  hams  to  you  for  a  night's  lodging  ?  that  hath 
an  itch  in's  hams,  which  like  the  fire  at  the  glass-house" 
hath  not  gone  out  this  seven  years)  is  he  not  a  courtly 
gentleman  ?  (when  he  wears  white  satin,  one  would  take 
him  by  his  black  muzzle  to  be  no  other  creature  than  a 
maggot)  you  are  a  goodly  foil,"  I  confess,  well  set  out  (but 
covered  with  a  false  stone  —  yon  counterfeit  diamond.) 

Cam.   He  will  make  her  know  what  is  in  me.  145 

Flam.  Come,  my  lord  attends  you;  (thou  shalt  go 
to  bed  to  my  lord) . 

Cam.   Now  he  comes  to't. 

Flam.  With  a  relish  as  curious  as  a  vintner  going  to 
taste  new  wine.     (I  am  opening  your  case  hard.)         150 

[To  Camillo. 

Cam.  A  virtuous  brother,  o'  my  credit ! 

Flam.  He  will  give  thee  a  ring  with  a  philosopher's 
stone"  in  it. 

Cam.   Indeed,  I  am  studying  alchemy. 

Flam.  Thou  shalt  lie  in  a  bed  stuffed  with  turtle's 
feathers;  swoon  in  perfumed  linen,  like  the  fellow  was 
smothered  in  roses.  So  perfect  shall  be  thy  happiness, 
that  as  men  at  sea  think  land,  and  trees,  and  ships,  go 
that  way  they  go ;  so  both  heaven  and  earth  shall  seem 
to  go  your  voyage.  Shall't  meet  him ;  'tis  fixed,  with 
nails  of  diamonds  to  inevitable  necessity.  161 

Vit.    [Aside.]    How  shall's  rid  him  hence? 

Flam.  (I  will  put  brize  in's  tail,  set  him  gadding  pres- 
ently.) I  have  almost  wrought  her  to  it;  I  find  her 
coming :  but,  might  I  advise  you  now,  for  this  night  I 
would  not  lie  with  her,  I  would  cross  her  humour  to 
make  her  more  humble. 


SCENIC  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  39 

Cam.   Shall  I,  shall  I? 

Flam.   It  will  show  in  you  a  supremacy  of  judgement. 

Cam.  True,  and  a  mind  differing  from  the  tumultuary 
opinion;  for,  qu(E  negata,  grata.'^  171 

Flatn.  Right :  you  are  the  adamant  shall  draw  her 
to  you,  though  you  keep  distance  off. 

Cam.   A  philosophical  reason. 

Flam.  Walk  by  her  a'  th'  nobleman's  fashion,  and 
tell  her  you  will  lie  with  her  at  the  end  of  the  progress." 

Cam.  Vittoria,  I  cannot  be  induced,  or  as  a  man 
would  say,  incited 

Vit.   To  do  what,  sir  ? 

Cam.  To  lie  with  you  to-night.  Your  silkworm  useth 
to  fast  every  third  day,  and  the  next  following  spins 
the  better.    To-morrow  at  night,  I  am  for  you.  1S2 

Vit.   You'll  spin  a  fair  thread,  trust  to't. 

Flam.  But  do  you  hear,  I  shall  have  you  steal"  to  her 
chamber  about  midnight. 

Cam.  Do  you  think  so  ?  why  look  you,  brother,  be- 
cause you  shall  not  think  I'll  gull  you,  take  the  key, 
lock  me  into  the  chamber,  and  say  you  shall  be  sure  of  me. 

Flam.   In  troth  I  will ;   I'll  be  your  jailer  once. 
But  have  you  ne'er  a  false  door  ?  19° 

Cam.  A  pox  on't,  as  I  am  a  Christian  !  tell  me  to- 
morrow how  scurvily  she  takes  my  unkind  parting. 

Flam.   I  will. 

Cam.  Didst  thou  not  mark  the  jest  of  the  silkworm  ? 
Good-night ;  in  faith,  I  will  use  this  trick  often. 

Flam.   Do,  do,  do.  [Exit  Camili-O. 

So,  now  you  are  safe.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  thou  intanglest  thy- 
self in  thine  own  work  like  a  silkworm. 

Come,  sister,  darkness  hides  your  blush.  Women  are 
like  curst  dogs : "  civility  keeps  them  tied  all  day-time, 
but  they  are  let  loose  at  midnight ;  then  they  do  most 
good,  or  most  mischief.     My  lord,  my  lord  !  202 


40  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  i 

Enter  BRACinANO.     Zanche  brings  out  a  carpet,  spreads 
it,  and  lays  on  it  two  fair  cushions 

Brack.   Give  credit :"  I  could  wish  time  would  stand 
still, 
And  never  end  this  interview,  this  hour ; 
But  all  delight  doth  itself  soon'st  devour. 

Enter  Cornelia  listening 

Let  me  into  your  bosom,  happy  lady, 
Pour  out,  instead  of  eloquence,  my  vows. 
Loose  me  not,  madam,  for  if  you  forego  me, 
I  am  lost  eternally. 

Vit.  Sir,  in  the  way  of  pity, 

I  wish  you  heart-whole. 

Brack.  You  are  a  sweet  physician.    210 

Vit.   Sure,  sir,  a  loathed  cruelty  in  ladies 
Is  as  to  doctors  many  funerals :  • 
It  takes  away  their  credit. 

Brack.  Excellent  creature  ! 

We  call  the  cruel,  fair ;  what  name  for  you 
That  are  so  merciful  ? 

Zan.  See  now  they  close. 

Flam.   Most  happy  union. 

Cor.  [Aside.]  My  fears  are  fall'n  upon  me:  O  my  heart! 
My  son  the  pander  !   now  I  find  our  house 
Sinking  to  ruin.     Earthquakes  leave  behind. 
Where  they  have  tyrannized,  iron,  or  lead,  or  stone ;    220 
But  woe  to  ruin,  violent  lust  leaves  none. 

Brack.   WhsLt  value  is  this  jewel  ? 

Vit.    'Tis  the  ornament  of  a  weak  fortune. 

Brack.   In  sooth,  I'll  have  it;   nay,  I  will  but  change 
My  jewel  for  your  jewel. 

Flam.  Excellent ; 

His  jewel  for  her  jewel :  —  well  put  in,  duke. 

Brack.   Nay,  let  me  see  you  wear  it. 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  4I 

Vit.  Here,  sir? 

Brack.   Nay,  lower,  you  shall  wear  my  jewel  lower. 

Flam.   That's  better :   she  must  wear  his  jewel  lower. 

Vit.   To   pass   away   the    time,    I'll    tell    your   grace 
A  dream  I  had  last  night. 

Brack.  Most  wishedly.  231 

Vit.   A  foolish  idle  dream : 
Methought  I  walk'd  about  the  mid  of  night 
Into  a  churchyard,  where  a  goodly  yew-tree 
Spread  her  large  root  in  ground :   under  that  yew. 
As  I  sate  sadly  leaning  on  a  grave, 
Chequered  with  cross  sticks,"  there  came  stealing  in 
Your  duchess  and  my  husband ;  one  of  them 
A  pick-ax  bore,  th'  other  a  rusty  spade. 
And  in  rough  terms  they  'gan  to  challenge  me  240 

About  this  yew. 

Brack.  That  tree  ?  ''*' 

Vit.  This  harmless  yew ; 

They  told  me  my  intent  was  to  root  up 
That  well-grown  yew,  and  plant  i'  the  stead  of  it 
A  withered  black-thorn  ;  and  for  that  they  vowed 
To  bury  me  alive.     My  husband  straight 
With  pick-ax  'gan  to  dig,  and  your  fell  duchess 
With  shovel,  like  a  fury,  voided  out 
The  earth  and  scattered  bones :  lord,  how  methought 
I  trembled  !  and  yet  for  all  this  terror 
I  could  not  pray. 

Flam.  No ;   the  devil  was  in  your  dream.  250 

Vit.   W^hen  to  my  rescue  there  arose,  methought, 
A  whirlwind,  which  let  fall  a  massy  arm 
From  that  strong  plant ; 

And  both  were  struck  dead  by  that  sacred  yew, 
In  that  base  shallow  grave  that  was  their  due. 

Flam.   Excellent   devil!     She  hath   taught  him  in   a 
dream 
fTo  make^wayJiis_duche3S_aiidJi£rJiiisband.  J 

Brack.   Sweetly  shall  I  interpret  this  your  dream. 


42  '       THE    WHITE   DEVIL  [act  I 

You  are  lodged  within  his  arms  who  shall  protect  you 

From  all  the  fevers  of  a  jealous  husband,  260 

From  the  poor  envy  of  our  phlegmatic  duchess. 

I'll  seat  you  above  law,  and  above  scandal ; 

Give  to  your  thoughts  the  invention  of  delight, 

And  the  fruition ;  nor  shall  government 

Divide  me  from  you  longer,  than  a  care 

To  keep  you  great :  you  shall  to  me  at  once, 

Be  dukedom,  health,  wife,  children,  friends,  and  all. 

Cor.   Woe  to  light  hearts,  they  still  fore-run  our  fall ! 

Flam.   What  fury  raised  thee  up  ?  away,  away. 

[Exit  Zanche. 

Cor.   What  make  you  here,  my  lord,  this    dead  of 
night  ?  270 

Never  dropped  mildew  on  a  flower  here  till  now. 

Flam.   I  pray,  will  you  go  to  bed  then. 
Lest  you  be  blasted  ? 

Cor.  O  that  this  fair  garden 

Had  with  all  poisoned  herbs  of  Thessaly 
At  first  been  planted ;  made  a  nursery 
For  witchcraft,  rather  than  a  burial  plot 
For  both  your  honours  ! 

Vit.  Dearest  mother,  hear  me. 

Cor.   O,  thou  dost  make  my  brow  bend  to  the  earth. 
Sooner  than  nature  !     See  the  curse  of  children  ! 
In  life  they  keep  us  frequently  in  tears ;  2S0 

And  in  the  cold  grave  leave  us  in  pale  fears. 

Brack.    Come,  come,  I  will  not  hear  you. 

Vit.  Dear  my  lord  — 

Cor.   Where  is  thy  duchess  now,  adulterous  duke? 
Thou  little  dream'st  this  night  she's  come  to  Rome. 

Flam.   How  !  come  to  Rome  ! 

Vit.  The  duchess ! 

Brack.  She  had  been  better  — 

, —  Cor.   The  lives  of  princes  should  like  dials  move. 
Whose  regular  example  is  so  strong. 
They  make  the  times  by  them  go  right,  or  wrong. 


SCENE  II]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  43 

Flam.   So,  have  you  done  ? 

Cor.  Unfortunate  Camillo  ! 

Vit.   I  do  protest,  if  any  chaste  denial,  290 

If  any  thing  but  blood  could  have  allayed 
His  long  suit  to  me  — 

Cor.  I  will  join  with  thee, 

To  the  most  woeful  end  e'er  mother  kneeled :  ' 
If  thou  dishonour  thus  thy  husband's  bed. 
Be  thy  life  short  as  are  the  funeral  tears 
In  great  men's  — 

Brack.  Fie,  fie,  the  v/oman's  mad. 

Cor.   Be  thy  act  Judas-like;  bet ra}- in  kissing: 
May'st  thou  be  envied  during  his  short  breath. 
And  pitied  like  a  wretch  after  his  death  ! 

Vit.   O  me  accursed  !  [Exit. 

Flam.  Are  you  out  of  your  wits  ?   My  lord,  300 

I'll  fetch  her  back  again. 

Brack.  No,  I'll  to  bed : 

Send  doctor  Julio  to  me  presently. 
Uncharitable  woman!  thy  rash  tongue 
Hath  raised  a  fearful  and  prodigious  storm : 
Be  thou  the  cause  of  all  ensuing  harm.  [Exit. 

Flam.   Now,    you   that    stand   so   much    upon    your 
honour. 
Is  this  a  fftting  time  a'  night,  think  you. 
To  send  a  duke  home  without  e'er  a  man  ? 
I  would  fain  know  where  lies  the  mass  of  wealth 
Which  you  have  hoarded  for  my  maintenance,  3^° 

That  I  may  bear  my  beard  out  of  the  level 
Of  my  lord's  stirrup."    ,v. 

Cor.  f  What !  because  we  are  poor 

Shall  we  be  vicious  ? 

Flam.  Pray,  what  means  have  you 

To  keep  me  from  the  galleys,  or  the  gallows  ? 
My  father  proved  himself  a  gentleman. 
Sold  all's  land,  and,  like  a  fortunate  fellow, 
Died  ere  the  money  was  spent.     You  brought  me  up 


44  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  i 

At  Padua,  I  confess,  where  I  protest. 

For  want  of  means  —  the  university  judge  me  — 

I  have  been  fain  to  heel  my  tutor's  stockings,  320 

At  least  seven  years ;  conspiring  with  a  beard. 

Made  me  a  graduate ; "  then  to  this  duke's  service. 

I  visited  the  court,  whence  I  returned 

More  courteous,  more  lecherous  by  far, 

But  not  a  suit  the  richer:  and  shall  I, 

Having  a  path  so  open,  and  so  free 

To  my  preferment,  still  retain  your  milk 

In  my  pale  forehead  ?  no,  this  face  of  mine 

I'll  arm,  and  fortify  with  lusty  wine, 

'Gainst  shame  and  blushing.  330 

Cor.   0,  that  I  ne'er  had  borne  thee  ! 

Flam.  So  would  I ; 

I  would  the  common'st  courtezan  in  Rome 
Had  been  my  mother,  rather  than  thyself. 
Nature  is  very  pitiful  to  whores. 
To  give  them  but  few  children,  yet  those  children 
Plurality  of  fathers ;   they  are  sure 
They  shall  not  want.     Go,  go. 
Complain  unto  my  great  lord  cardinal ; 
It  may  be  he  will  justify  the  act. 

Lycurgus  wondered  much,,jinen  would  provide  34° 

Good  stallions  for  their  mares,  and  yet  would  suffer 
Their  fair  wives  to  be  barrenT} 

Cor.   Misery  of  miseries  !  {Exit. 

Flam.   The  duchess  come  to  court !     I  like  not  that. 
We  are  engaged  to  mischief,  and  must  on ; 
As  rivers  to  find  out  the  ocean 
Flow  with  crook  bendings  beneath  forced  banks, 
Or  as  we  see,  to  aspire  some  mountain's  top, 
The  way  ascends  not  straight,  but  imitates 
The  subtle  foldings  of  a  winter's  snake,  35° 

So  who  knows  policy  and  her  true  aspect, 
Shall  find  her  ways  winding  and  indirect.  [Exit. 


ACT   THE   SECOND 

Scene  I" 

Enter  Francisco  de  Medicis,  Cardinal  Monticelso, 
Marcello,  Isabella,  Young  Giovanni,  with  little 
Jaques  the  Moor 

Fran.   Have   you  not  seen  your  husband  since  you 
arrived  ? 

Isab.   Not  yet,  sir. 

Fran.  Surely  he  is  wondrous  kind ; 

If  I  had  such  a  dove-house  as  Camillo's, 
I  would  set  fire  on't  were't  but  to  destroy 
The  pole-cats  that  haunt  to  it  —  My  sweet  cousin  ! 

Giov.   Lord  uncle,  you  did  promise  me  a  horse, 
And  armour. 

Fran.  That  I  did,  my  pretty  cousin. 

Marcello,  see  it  fitted. 

Mar.  My  lord,  the  duke  is  here. 

Fran.    Sister,  away! 
You  must  not  yet  be  seen. 

Isab.  I  do  beseech  you  lo 

Entreat  him  mildly ;  let  not  your  rough  tongue 
Set  us  at  louder  variance ;  all  my  wrongs  ° 
Are  freely  pardoned ;  and  I  do  not  doubt. 
As  men,  to  try  the  precious  unicorn's  horn, 
Make  of  the  powder  a  preservative  circle. 
And  in  it  put  a  spider,"  so  these  arms 
Shall  charm  his  poison,  force  it  to  obeying, 
And  keep  him  chaste  from  an  infected  straying. ° 

Fran.   I  wish  it  may.     Be  gone :  'void  the  chamber. 
[Exeunt  all  but  Monticelso  and  Francisco. 

45 


46  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  ii 

Enter  Brachiano  and  Flamineo 

You  are  welcome ;  will  you  sit  ?  —  I  pray,  my  lord,      20 
Be  you  my  orator,  my  heart's  too  full ; 
I'll  second  you  anon. 

Mont.  Ere  I  begin. 

Let  me  entreat  your  grace  forego  all  passion, 
Which  may  be  raised  by  my  free  discourse. 

Brack.   As  silent  as  i'  th'  church :  you  may  proceed. 

Mont.   It  is  a  wonder  to  your  noble  friends. 
That  you,  having  as  'twere  entered  the  world 
With  a  free  sceptre  in  your  able  hand. 
And  having  to  th'  use  of  nature,  well  applied. 
High  gifts  of  learning,  should  in  your  prime  age  3° 

Neglect  your  awful  throne  for  the  soft  down 
Of  an  insatiate  bed.     O  my  lord. 
The  drunkard  after  all  his  lavish  cups 
Is  dry,  and  then  is  sober  !  so  at  length. 
When  you  awake  from  this  lascivious  dream. 
Repentance  then  will  follow,  like  the  sting 
Placed  in  the  adder's  tail.     Wretched  are  princes 
When  fortune  blasteth  but  a  petty  flower 
Of  their  unwieldly  crowns,  or  ravisheth 
But  one  pearl  from  their  sceptre ;  but  alas  !  40 

When  they  to  wilful  shipwreck  lose  good  fame, 
All  princely  titles  perish  with  their  name. 

Brack.   You  have  said,  my  lord. 

Mont.  Enough  to  give  you  taste 

How  far  I  am  from  flattering  your  greatness. 

Brack.   Now,  you  that  are  his  second,  what  say  you  ? 
Do  not  like  young  hawks  fetch  a  course  about ;  ° 
Your  game  flies  fair,  and  for  you. 

Fran.  Do  not  fear  it : 

I'll  answer  you  in  your  own  hawking  phrase. 
Some  eagles  that  should  gaze  upon  the  sun 
Seldom  soar  high,  but  take  their  lustful  ease ;  50 

Since  they  from  dunghill  birds  their  prey  can  seize. 


SCENE  I]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  47 

You  know  Vittoria  ? 

Brack.  Yes. 

Fran.  You  shift  your  shirt  there, 

When  you  retire  from  tennis  ? 

Brack.  Happily. 

Fran.   Her  husband  is  the  lord  of  a  poor  fortune, 
Yet  she  wears  cloth  of  tissue." 

Brack.  What  of  this  ? 

Will  you  urge  that,  my  good  lord  cardinal, 
As  part  of  her  confession  at  next  shrift, 
And  know  from  whence  it  sails  ? 

Fran.  She  is  your  strumpet. 

Brack.   Uncivil  sir,  there's  hemlock  in  thy  breath. 
And  that  black  slander.     Were  she  a  whore  of  mine,     60 
All  thy  loud  cannons,  and  thy  borrowed  Switzers," 
Thy  galleys,  nor  thy  sworn  confederates, 
Durst  not  supplant  her. 

Fran.  Let's  not  talk  on  thunder. 

Thou  hast  a  wife,  our  sister :  would  I  had  given 
Both  her  white  hands  to  death,  bound  and  locked  fast 
In  her  last  winding-sheet,  when  I  gave  thee 
But  one! 

Brack.       Thou  had'st  given  a  soul  to  God  then. 

Fran.  True : 

Thy  ghostly  father,"  with  all  his  absolution. 
Shall  ne'er  do  so  by  thee. 

Brack.  Spit  thy  poison. 

Fran.   I    shall    not    need;     lust    carries    her    sharp 
whip  70 

At  her  own  girdle.     Look  to't,  for  our  anger 
Is  making  thunderbolts. 

Brack.  Thunder  !  in  faith, 

They  are  but  crackers. 

Fran.  We'll  end  this  with  the  cannon. 

Brack.   Thou'lt   get   nought   by   it,   but   iron  in   thy 
wounds, 
And  gunpowder  in  thy  nostrils. 


48  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  il 

Fran.  Better  that, 

Than  change  perfumes  for  plasters." 

Brach.  Pity  on  thee  ! 

'Twere  good  you'd  show  your  slaves,  or  men  condemned, 
Your  new-ploughed    forehead-defiance  !  "  and    I'll  meet 

thee, 
Even  in  a  thicket  of  thy  ablest  men. 

Mont.   My  lords,  you  shall  not  word  it  any  further 
Without  a  milder  limit. 

Fran.  Willingly.  si 

Brach.   Have  you  proclaimed  a  triumph,  that  you  bait 
A  lion  thus  ? 

Mont.  My  lord ! 

Brach.  I  am  tame,  I  am  tame,  sir. 

Fran.   We  send  unto  the  duke  for  conference 
'Bout  levies  'gainst  the  pirates ;  my  lord  duke 
Is  not  at  home :  we  come  ourself  in  person ; 
Still  my  lord  duke  is  busied.     iBut,  we  fear, 
When  Tiber  to  each  prowling  passenger 
Discovers  flocks  of  wild  ducks,  then,  my  lord  — 
'Bout  moulting  time,  I  mean  —  we  shall  be  certain       90 
To  find  you  sure  enough,  and  speak  with  you. 

Brach.  Ha ! 

Fran.   A    mere    tale    of    a    tub :  °    my    words    are 
idle. 
But  to  express  the  sonnet  by  natural  reason,'' 

Enter  Giovanni 

When  stags  grow  melancholic "  you'll  find  the  season. 
Mont.   No  more,  my  lord ;  here  comes  a  champion 
Shall  end  the  difference  between  you  both ; 
Your  son,  the  prince  Giovanni.     See,  my  lords. 
What  hopes  you  store  in  him  ;   this  is  a  casket 
For  both  your  crowns,  and  should  be  held  like  dear. 
Now  is  he  apt  for  knowledge ;  therefore  know  100 

It  is  a  more  direct  and  even  way, 


SCENE  I]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  49 

/To  train  to  virtue  those  of  princely  blood,\ 
(By  examples  than  by  precepts:  if  by  cxan^plcs, 
Whom  should  he  rather  strive  to  imitate 
Than  his  own  father  ?  be  his  pattern  then, 
Leave  him  a  stock  of  virtue  that  may  last, 
Should  fortune  rend  his  sails,  and  split  his  mast. 

Brack.   Your  hand,  boy :  growing  to  a  soldier  ? 

Giov.  Give  me  a  pike. 

Fran.   What,    practising    your    pike    so    young,    fair 
cousin  ? 

Giov.    Suppose  me  one  of  Homer's  frogs,"  my  lord,    no 
Tossing  my  bulrush  thus.     Pray,  sir,  tell  me, 
Might  not  a  child  of  good  discretion 
Be  leader  to  an  army  ? 

Fran.  Yes,  cousin,  a  young  prince 

Of  good  discretion  might. 

Giov.  Say  you  so  ? 

Indeed,  I  have  heard  'tis  lit  a  general 
Should  not  endanger  his  own  person  oft ; 
So  that  he  make  a  noise  when  he's  a'horseback, 
Like  a  Danske  drummer,  — •  0,  'tis  excellent !  — 
He  need  not  fight !  methinks  his  horse  as  well 
Might  lead  an  army  for  him.     If  I  live,  120 

I'll  charge  the  French  foe  in  the  very  front 
Of  all  my  troops,  the  foremost  man. 

Fran.  What !  what ! 

Giov.   And  will  not  bid  my  soldiers  up,  and  follow," 
But  bid  them  follow  me. 

Brack.  Forward  lap-wing  ! 

He  flies  with  the  shell  on's  head. 

Fran.  Pretty  cousin  ! 

Giov.   The  first  year,  uncle,  that  I  go  to  war, 
All  prisoners  that  I  take,  I  will  set  free, 
W'ithout  their  ransom. 

Fran.  Ha  !  without  their  ransom  ! 

How  then  will  you  reward  your  soldiers. 
That  took  those  prisoners  for  you  ? 


so  THE   WHITP:   devil  [act  II 

Giov.  Thus,  my  lord :     130 

I'll  marry  them  to  all  the  wealthy  widows 
That  fall  that  year.° 

Fran.  Why  then,  the  next  year  following, 

You'll  have  no  men  to  go  with  you  to  war. 

Giov.   Why  then  I'll  press  °  the  women  to  the  war, 
And  then  the  men  will  follow. 

Mont.  Witty  prince  ! 

Fran.   See,  a  good  habit  makes  a  child  a  man, 
Whereas  a  bad  one  makes  a  man  a  beast.      — 7 
"^Come,  you  and  I  are  friends. 

Brack.  Most  wishedly : 

Like  bones  which,  broke  in  sunder,  and  well  set,  / 
Knit  the  more  strongly. 
—  Fran.  Call  Camillo  hither.  —  140 

[Exit  Servant. 
You  have  received  the  rumour,  how  Count  Lodowick 
Is  turned  a  pirate  ? 

Brack.  Yes. 

Fran.  We  are  now  preparing 

Some  ships  to  fetch  him  in.     Behold  your  duchess. 
We  now  will  leave  you,  and  expect  from  you 
Nothing  but  kind  entreaty. 

Brack.  You  have  charmed  me.° 

[Exeunt  Francisco,  Monticelso,  and  Giovanni. 

Enter  Isabella 
You  are  in  health,  we  see. 

Isab.  And  above  health, 

To  see  my  lord  well. 

Brack.  So :  "  I  wonder  much 

What  amorous  whirlwind  hurried  you  to  Rome. 

Isab.   Devotion,  my  lord. 

Brack.  Devotion ! 

Is  your  soul  charged  with  any  grievous  sin?  15° 

Isab.    'Tis  burdened  with  too  many ;  and  I  think 
The  oftener  that  we  cast  our  reckonings  up, 


SCENE  I]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  5 1 

Our  sleeps  will  be  the  sounder. 

Brack.  Take  your  chamber. 

Isab.   Nay,  my  dear  lord,  I  will  not  have  you  angry  1 
Doth  not  my  absence  from  you,  now  two  months, 
Merit  one  kiss  ? 

Brack.  I  do  not  use  to  kiss : 

If  that  will  dispossess  your  jealousy, 
I'll  swear  it  to  you. 

Isab.  O  my  loved  lord, 

I  do  not  come  to  chide :  my  jealousy  ! 
I  am  to  learn  what  that  Italian  means.''  i6o 

You  are  as  welcome  to  these  longing  arms, 
As  I  to  you  a  virgin." 

Brack.  O,  your  breath  ! 

Out  upon  sweetmeats  and  continued  physic, 
The  plague  is  in  them  ! 

Isab.  You  have  oft,  for  these  two  lips, 

Neglected  cassia,  or  the  natural  sweets 
Of  the  spring- violet :  they  are  not  yet  much  withered. 
My  lord,  I  should  be  merry :   these  your  frowns 
Show  in  a  helmet  lovely ;  but  on  me, 
In  such  a  peaceful  interview^  methinks 
They  are  too  too  roughly  knit. 

Brack.  O  dissemblance !  170 

Do  you  bandy  factions  'gainst  me  ?   have  you  learnt 
The  trick  of  impudent  baseness,  to  complain 
Unto  your  kindred  ? 

Isab.  •  Never,  my  dear  lord. 

Brack.   Must  I  be  hunted  out  ?   or  was't  your  trick 
To  meet  some  amorous  gallant  here  in  Rome, 
That  must  supply  our  discontinuance  ? 

Isab.   I  pray,  sir,  burst  my  heart ;  and  in  my  death 
Turn  to  your  ancient  pity,  though  not  love. 

Brack.   Because  your  brother  is  the  corpulent  duke. 
That  is,  the  great  duke,  'sdeath,  I  shall  not,  shortly,    180 
Racket  away  five  hundred  crowns  at  tennis. 
But  it  shall  rest  upon  record  !     I  scorn  him 


52  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  ii 

Like  a  shaved  Polack :  °  all  his  reverend  wit 

Lies  in  his  wardrobe ;  he's  a  discreet  fellow, 

When  he's  made  up  in  his  robes  of  state. 

Your  brother,  the  great  duke,  because  h'as  galleys, 

And  now  and  then  ransacks  a  Turkish  fly-boat, 

(Now  all  the  hellish  furies  take  his  soul !) 

First  made  this  match :   accursed  be  the  priest 

That  sang  the  wedding-mass,  and  even  my  issue  !         190 

Isab.   0,  too  too  far  you  have  cursed  ! 

Brack.  Your  hand  I'll  kiss ; 

This  is  the  latest  ceremony  of  my  love. 
Henceforth  I'll  never  lie  with  thee ;  by  this. 
This  wedding-ring,  I'll  ne'er  more  lie  with  thee  1 
And  this  divorce  shall  be  as  truly  kept. 
As  if  the  judge  had  doomed  it.     Fare  you  well: 
Our  sleeps  are  severed. 

Isab.  Forbid  it,  the  sweet  union 

Of  all  things  blessed  !  why,  the  saints  in  heaven 
Will  knit  their  brows  at  that. 

Brack.  Let  not  thy  love 

Make  thee  an  unbeliever ;  this  my  vow  200 

Shall  never,  on  my  soul,  be  satisfied 
With  my  repentance :  let  thy  brother  rage 
Beyond  a  horrid  tempest,  or  sea-fight, 
My  vow  is  fixed. 

Isab.  0  my  winding-sheet ! 

Now  shall  I  need  thee  shortly.     Dear  my  lord. 
Let  me  hear  once  more,  what  I  would  not  hear : 
Never  ? 

Brack.        Never. 

Isab.   O  my  unkind  lord  !  may  your  sins  find  mercy. 
As  I  upon  a  woeful  widowed  bed 

Shall  pray  for  you,  if  not  to  turn  your  eyes  210 

Upon  your  wretched  wife  and  hopeful  son. 
Yet  that  in  time  you'll  fix  them  upon  heaven  ! 

Brack.   No  more ;   go,  go,  complain  to  the  great  duke. 

Isab.   No,  my  dear  lord ;  you  shall  have  present  witness 


SCENE  I]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  53 

How  I'll  work  peace  between  you.     I  will  maE^ 
Myself  the  author  of  your  cursed  vow  ; 

I  have  some  cause  to  do  it,  you  have  none. j 

Conceal  it,  I  beseech  you,  for  the  weal 

Of  both  your  dukedoms,  that  you  wrought  the  means 

Of  such  a  separation  :  let  the  fault  220 

Remain  with  rny  supposed  jealousy, 

And  think  with  what  a  piteous  and  rent  heart 

I  shall  perform  this  sad  ensuing  part. 

Enter  Fr^vncisco,  Flamineo,  Monticelso,  and  Marcello 

Brack.   Well,    take    your    course.  —  My    honourable 
brother  I 

Fran.   Sister  !  —  This  is  not  well,  my  lord.  —  Why, 
sister  !  — 
She  merits  not  this  welcome. 

Brack.  Welcome,  say  ! 

She  hath  given  me  a  sharp  welcome. 

Fran.  Are  you  foolish  ? 

Come,  dry  your  tears :  is  this  a  modest  course 
To  better  what  is  naught,  to  rail  and  weep  ? 
Grow  to  a  reconcilement,  or,  by  Heaven,  230 

I'll  ne'er  more  deal  between  you. 

Isab.  Sir,  you  shall  not ; 

No,  though  Vittoria,  upon  that  condition, 
Would  become  honest. 

Fran.  Was  your  husband  loud 

Since  we  departed  ? 

Isab.  By  my  life,  sir,  no, 

I  swear  by  that  I  do  not  care  to  lose. 
Are  all  these  ruins  of  my  former  beauty 
Laid  out  for  a  whore's  triumph  ? 

Fran.  Do  you  hear  ? 

Look  upon  other  women,  with  what  patience  ] 

They  suffer  these  slight  wrongs,  and  with  what  justice 
They  study  to  requite  them  :  take  that  course.         _^'4o 


54  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  ii 

Isab.   O  that  I  were  a  man,  or  that  I  had  power 
To  execute  my  apprehended  wishes  ! 
I  would  whip  some  with  scorpions. 

Fran.  What !  turned  fury  ! 

Isab.   To  dig  the  strumpet's  eyes  out ;  let  her  lie 
Some  twenty  months  a  dying ;   to  cut  off 
Her  nose  and  lips,  pull  out  her  rotten  teeth ; 
Preserve  her  flesh  like  mummia,  for  trophies 
Of  my  just  anger  !     Hell,  to  my  affliction. 
Is  mere  snow-water.     By  your  favour,  sir ;  — 
Brother,  draw  near,  and  my  lord  cardinal ;  —  250 

Sir,  let  me  borrow  of  you  but  one  kiss ; 
Henceforth  I'll  never  lie  with  you,  by  this, 
This  wedding-ring. 

Fran.  How,  ne'er  more  lie  with  him  ! 

Isab.   And  this  divorce  shall  be  as  truly  kept 
As  if  in  thronged  court  a  thousand  ears 
Had  heard  it,  and  a  thousand  lawyers'  hands 
Sealed  to  the  separation. 

Brack.   Ne'er  lie  with  me  ! 

Isab.  Let  not  jriy  former  dotage 

Make  thee  an  unbeliever ;  this  my  vow 
Shall  never,  on  my  soul,  be  satisfied  260 

With  my  repentance  :  manet  alta  mente  repostum.^ 

Fran.   Now,  by  my  birth,  you  are  a  foolish,  mad, 
And  jealous  woman. 

Brack.  You  see  'tis  not  my  seeking. 

Fran.   Was  this  your  circle  of  pure  unicorn's  horn. 
You  said  should  charm  your  lord  ?  now  horns  upon  thee, 
For  jealousy  deserves  them  !     Keep  your  vow 
And  take  your  chamber. 

Isab.  No,  sir,  I'll  presently  to  Padua ; 

I  will  not  stay  a  minute. 

Mont.  O  good  madam  ! 

Brack.    'Twere  best  to  let  her  have  her  humour ; 
Some  half  day's  journey  will  bring  down  her  stomach," 
And  then  she'll  turn  in  post. 


sciiNEi]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  55 

Fran.  To  see  her  come  271 

To  my  lord  cardinal  for  a  dispensation 
Of  her  rash  vow,  will  beget  excellent  laughter. 

I  sab.  Unkindness,  do  thy  office ;  poor  heart,  break : 
Those  are  the  killing  griefs,  which  dare  not  speak. 

[Exit. 

Mar.   Camillo's  come,  my  lord. 

Enter  Camillo 

Fran.  Where's  the  commission  ? 

Mar.    'Tis  here. 

Fran.  Give  me  the  signet. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Brachiano  and  Flamineo. 

Flam.  My  lord,  do  you  mark  their  whispering?  I 
will  compound  a  medicine,  out  of  their  two  heads, 
stronger  than  garlic,  deadlier  than  stibium :  the  can- 
tharides,  which  are  scarce  seen  to  stick  upon  the  flesh, 
when  they  work  to  the  heart,  shall  not  do  it  with  more 
silence  or  invisible  cunning.  283 

Brack.    x\bout  the  murder  ? 

Enter  Doctor 

Flam.  They  are  sending  him  to  Naples,  but  I'll  send 
him  to  Candy."     Here's  another  property  too." 

Brack.   O,  the  doctor  ! 

Flam.  A  poor  quacksalving  knave,  my  lord;  one 
that  should  have  been  lashed  for's  lechery,  but  that 
he  confessed  a  judgement,  had  an  execution  laid  upon 
him,  and  so  put  the  whip  to  a  non  plus.^  201 

Doc.  And  was  cozened,  my  lord,  by  an  arranter  knave 
than  myself,  and  made  pay  all  the  colourable  execution. 

Flam.  He  will  shoot  pills  into  a  man's  guts  shall 
make  them  have  more  ventages  than  a  cornet  or  a  lam- 
prey ;  he  will  poison  a  kiss ;  and  was  once  minded,  for 
his  masterpiece,  because  Ireland  breeds  no  poison,  to 
have  prepared  a  deadly  vapour  in  a  Spaniard's  fart,  that 
should  have  poisoned  all  Dublin. 


56  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  ii 

Brack.   O  Saint  Anthony's  fire  !  300 

Doc.    Your  secretary  is  merry,  my  lord. 

Flam.  O  thou  cursed  antipathy  to  nature  !  Look,  his 
eye's  bloodshed,  like  a  needle  a  chirurgeon  stitcheth  a 
wound  with.  Let  me  embrace  thee,  toad,  and  love  thee, 
O  thou  abominable,  loathsome  gargarism,  that  will 
fetch  up  lungs,  lights,  heart,  and  hver,  by  scruples  ! 

Brack.   No  more.  —  I  must  employ  thee,  honest  doctor: 
You  must  to  Padua,  and  by  the  way. 
Use  some  of  your  skill  for  us. 

Doc.  Sir,  I  shall. 

Brack.   But  f or  Camillo  ?  310 

Flam.   He  dies  this  night,  by  such  a  politic  strain. 
Men  shall  suppose  him  by's  own  engine  slain. 
But  for  your  duchess'  death  — 

Doc.  I'll  make  her  sure. 

Brack.    Small  mischiefs  are  by  greater  made  secure. 

Flam.  Remember  this,  you  slave ;  when  knaves 
come  to  preferment,  they  rise  as  gallowses  are  raised 
i'  th'  Low  Countries,  one  upon  another's  shoulders. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Monticelso,  Camillo,  Francisco,  Marcello 

Mont.  Here  is  an  emblem,  nephew,  pray  peruse  it : 
'Twas  thrown  in  at  your  window. 

Cam.  At  my  window  ! 

Here  is  a  stag,  my  lord,  hath  shed  his  horns,  32° 

And,  for  the  loss  of  them,  the  poor  beast  weeps : 
The  word,  Inopem  mc  copia  fecit. 

Mont.  That  is, 

Plenty  of  horns  hath  made  him  poor  of  horns. 

Cam.   What  should  this  mean  ? 

Mont.  I'll  tell  you ;  'tis  given  out 

You  are  a  cuckold. 

Cam.  Is  it  given  out  so  ? 

I  had  rather  such  report  as  that,  my  lord, 


SCENE  I]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  57 

Should  keep  within  doors. 

Fran.  Have  you  any  children  ? 

Cam.   None,  my  lord. 

Fran.  You  are  the  happier : 

I'll  tell  you  a  tale. 

Cam.  Pray,  my  lord. 

Fran.  An  old  tale. 

Upon  a  time  Phoebus,  the  god  of  Hght,  330 

Or  him  we  call  the  Sun,  would  need  be  married : 
The  gods  gave  their  consent,  and  Mercury 
Was  sent  to  voice  it  to  the  general  world. 
But  what  a  piteous  cry  there  straight  arose 
Amongst  smiths  and  felt-makers,  brewers  and  cooks, 
Reapers  and  butter-women,  amongst  fishmongers, 
And  thousand  other  trades,  which  are  annoyed 
By  his  excessive  heat !   'twas  lamentable. 
They  came  to  Jupiter  all  in  a  sweat, 
And  do  forbid  the  bans.     A  great  fat  cook  340 

Was  made  their  speaker,  who  entreats  of  Jove 
That  Phoebus  might  be  gelded ;  for  if  now. 
When  there  was  but  one  sun,  so  many  men 
Were  like  to  perish  by  his  violent  heat. 
What  should  they  do  if  he  were  married. 
And  should  beget  more,  and  those  children 
Make  fireworks  like  their  fathqr  ?     So  say  I ; 
Only  I  will  apply  it  to  your  wife ; 
Her  issue,  should  not  providence  prevent  it. 
Would  make  both  nature,  time,  and  man  repent  it.      35c 

Mont.   Look  you,  cousin, 
Go,  change  the  air,  for  shame ;  see  if  your  absence 
Will  blast  your  cornucopia.'*     Marcello 
Is  chosen  with  you  joint  commissioner. 
For  the  relieving  our  Italian  coast 
From  pirates. 

Mar.  I  am  much  honoured  in't. 

Cam.  But,  sir. 

Ere  I  return,  the  stag's  horns  may  be  sprouted 


58  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  ii 

Greater  than  those  are  shed. 

Mont.  Do  not  fear  it; 

I'll  be  your  ranger. 

Cam.  You  must  watch  i'th'  nights ; 

Then's  the  most  danger. 

Fran.  Farewell,  good  Marcello :      360 

All  the  best  fortunes  of  a  soldier's  wish 
Bring  you  a-shipboard. 

Cam.   Were  I  not  best,  now  I  am  turned  soldier, 
Ere  that  I  leave  my  wife,  sell  all  she  hath, 
And  then  take  leave  of  her  ? 

Mont.  I  expect  good  from  you, 

Your  parting  is  so  merry. 

Cam.   Merry,  my  lord  !   a'  th'  captain's  humour  right, 
I  am  resolved  to  be  drunk  this  night. 

[Exeunt  Marcello  and  Camillo. 

Fran.    So,  'twas  well  fitted ;  now  shall  we  discerri 
How  his  wished  absence  will  give  violent  way     ^      37° 
To  Duke  Brachiano's  lust. 

Mont.  Why,  that  was  it ; 

To  what  scorned  purpose  else  should  we  make  choice 
Of  him  for  a  sea-captain  ?  and,  besides. 
Count  Lodowick,  which  was  rumoured  for  a  pirate, 
Is  now  in  Padua. 

Fran.  Is't  true  ? 

Mont.  Most  certain. 

I  have  letters  from  him,  which  are  suppliant 
To  work  his  quick  repeal  from  banishment : 
He  means  to  address  himself  for  pension 
Unto  our  sister  duchess. 

Fran.  O,  'twas  well ! 

We  shall  not  want  his  absence  past  six  days :  380 

I  fain  would  have  the  Duke  Brachiano  run 
Into  notorioys  scandal ;  for  there's  nought 
In  such  cursed  dotage,  to  repair  his  name. 
Only  the  deep  sense  of  some  deathless  shame. 

Mont.   It  may  be  objected,  I  am  dishonourable 


SCENE  I]  ■    THE   WHITE    DEVIL  59 

To  play  thus  with  my  kinsman ;  but  I  answer, 
For  my  revenge  I'd  stake  a  brother's  life, 
That,  being  wronged,  durst  not  avenge  himself. 

Fran.   Come,  to  observe  this  strumpet. 

Mont.  Curse  of  greatness  ! 

Sure  he'll  not  leave  her  ? 

Fran.  There's  small  pity  in't :         390 

Like  mistletoe  on  sear  elms  spent  by  weather, 
Let  him  cleave  to  her,  and  both  rot  together.         [Exeunt. 


ACT  THE  THIRD 

Scene  I° 

Enter  Brachiano,  with  one  in  the  habit  of  a  conjurer 

Brach.   Now,  sir,  I  claim  your  promise :  'tis  dead  mid- 
night. 
The  time  prefixed  to  show  me,  by  your  art, 
j  How  the  intended  murder  of  Camillo, 
1  And  our  loathed  duchess,  grow  to  action.  | 
^   Con.   You  have  won  me,  by  your  bounty,  to  a  deed 
I  do  not  often  practise.     Some  there  are. 
Which  by  sophistic  tricks,  aspire  that  name 
Which  I  would  gladly  lose,  of  necromancer ; 
As  some  that  use  to  juggle  upon  cards, 
Seeming  to  conjure,  when  indeed  they  cheat ;  lo 

Others  that  raise  up  their  confederate  spirits 
'Bout  windmills,  and  endanger  their  own  necks 
For  making  of  a  squib  ;  and  some  there  are 
Will  keep  a  curtal  "  to  show  juggling  tricks, 
And  give  out  'tis  a  spirit ;  besides  these. 
Such  a  whob  ream  of  almanac-makers,  figure-flingers, 
Fellows,  indeed,  that  only  live  by  stealth, 
Since  they  do  merely  lie  about  stol'n  goods, 
They'd  make  men  think  the  devil  were  fast  and  loose, 
With,  speaking  fustian  Latin.     Pray,  sit  down  ;  20 

Put  on  this  night-cap,  sir,  'tis  charmed;  and  now 
I'll  show  you,  by  my  strong  commanding  art. 
The  circumstance  that  breaks  your  duchess'  heart. 

A  Dumb  Show 

Enter  suspiciously  Julio  and  Christophero  :  they  draw 
a  curtain  where  Brachiano's   picture  is;  they  put  on 
spectacles  of  glass,  which  cover  their  eyes  and  noses,  and 
60 


SCENE  ij  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  6l 

then  hum  perfumes  afore  the  picture,  afid  wash  the  lips 
of  the  picture;  that  done,  quenching  the  fire,  and  putting 
of  their  spectacles,  they  depart  laughing. 

Enter  Isabella  in  her  nightgown,  as  to  bed-ward,  with 
lights  after  her,  Count  Lodovico,  Giovanni,  Gasparo, 
Antonelli,  and  others  waiting  on  her:  she  kneels  down 
as  to  prayers,  then  draws  the  curtain  of  the  picture, 
does  three  reverences  to  it,  and  kisses  it  thrice;  she  faints, 
and  will  not  suffer  them  to  come  near  it;  dies;  sorrow 
expressed  in  Giovanni,  and  in  Count  Lodovico.  She's 
conveyed  out  solemnly. 

Brach.   Excellent !  then  she's  dead. 

Con.  She's  poisoned 

By  the  fumed  picture.     'Twas  her  custom  nightly, 
Before  she  went  to  bed,  to  go  and  visit 
Your  picture,  and  to  feed  her  eyes  and  lips 
On  the  dead  shadow :  doctor  Julio, 
Observing  this,  infects  it  with  an  oil, 
And  other  poisoned  stuff,  which  presently  3° 

Did  suffocate  her  spirits. 

Brach.  Methought  I  saw 

Count  Lodowick  there. 

Con.  He  was ;  and  by  my  art, 

I  find  he  did  most  passionately  dote 
Upon  your  duchess.     Now  turn  another  way, 
And  view  Camillo's  far  more  politic  fate. 
Strike  louder,  music,  from  this  charmed  ground, 
To  yield,  as  fits  the  act,  a  tragic  sound  ! 

The  Second  Dumb  Show 

Enter  Flamineo,  Marcello,  Camillo,  with  four  more, 
as  captains:  they  drink  healtlis,  and  dance;  a  vaulting 
horse  is  brought  into  the  room ;  Marcello  aiid  two  more 
whispered  out  of  the  room,  while  Flamineo  and  Camillo 


62  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  in 

strip  themselves  into  their  shirts,  as  to  vault  ;  they  com- 
pliment who  shall  begin ; "  as  Camillo  is  about  to  vault, 
Flamineo  pitcheth  him  upon  his  neck,  and,  with  the 
help  of  the  rest,  writhes  his  neck  about;  seems  to  see  if 
it  be  broke,  and  lays  him  folded  double,  as  'twere,  under 
the  horse;  makes  shows  to  call  for  help;  Marcello  cowes 
in,  laments;  sends  for  the  cardinal  and  duke,  who  come 
forth  with  armed  men;  wonder  at  the  act;  command 
the  body  to  be  carried  home;  apprehend  Flamineo, 
Marcello,  and  the  rest,  and  go,  as  'twere,  to  apprehend 

VlTTORIA. 

Brach.  'Twas  quaintly  done ;  but  yet  each  circumstance 
I  taste  not  fully. 

Con.  O,  'twas  most  apparent ! 

You  saw  them  enter,  charged  with  their  deep  healths     40 
To  their  bon  voyage ;  and,  to  second  that, 
Flamineo  calls  to  have  a  vaulting  horse 
Maintain  their  sport ;   the  virtuous  Marcello 
Is  innocently  plotted  forth  the  room;" 
Whilst  your  eye  saw  the  rest,  and  can  inform  you 
The  engine  of  all." 

Brach.  It  seems  Marcello  and  Flamineo 

Are  both  committed. 

Con.  Yes,  you  saw  them  guarded ; 

And  now  they  are  come  with  purpose  to  apprehend 
Your  mistress,  fair  Vittoria.      We  are  now 
Beneath  her  roof :   'twere  fit  we  instantly  50 

Make  out  by  some  back  postern. 

Brach.  Noble  friend, 

You  bind  me  ever  to  you :  this  shall  stand  ° 
As  the  firm  seal  annexed  to  my  hand ; 
It  shall  enforce  a  payment. 

Con.  Sir,  I  thank  you. 

.  ■-  [Exit  Brachtano. 

Both  flowers  and  weeds  spring,  when  the  sun  is  warm, 
I  And  great  men  do  great  good,  or  else  great  harm.        [Extt. 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  63 

Scene  11° 

Enter  Francisco  de  Medicis,  and  Monticelso,  their 
Chancellor  and  Register 

Fran.   You  have  dealt  discreetly,  to  obtain  the  pres- 
ence 
Of  all  the  grave  Ueger  ambassadors 
To  hear  Vittoria's  trial. 

Mont.  'Twas  not  ill ; 

For,  sir,  you  know  we  have  nought  but  circumstances  ' 
To  charge  her  with,  about  her  husband's  death :         — ^ 
Their  approbation,"  therefore,  to  the  proofs 
Of  her  black  lust  shall  make  her  infamous 
To  all  our  neighbouring  kingdoms.     I  wonder 
If  Brachiano  will  be  here  ? 

Fran.  0  fie  ! 

'Twere  impudence  too  palpable.  [Exeunt.  10 

Enter  Flamineo  and  Marcello  guarded,  and 
a  Lawyer 

Laivyer.  What,  are  you  in  by  the  week  ?  °  so,  I  will  try 
now  whether  thy  wit  be  close  prisoner.  Methinks  none 
should  sit  upon  thy  sister,  °  but  old  whore-masters. 

Flam.  Or  cuckolds ;  for  your  cuckold  is  your  most 
terrible  tickler  of  lechery.  Whore-masters  would  serve, 
for  none  are  judges  at  tilting,  but  those  that  have  been 
old  tilters. 

Lawyer.   My  lord  duke  and  she  have  been  very  private. 

Flam.  You  are  a  dull  ass ;  'tis  threatened  they  have 
been  very  public.  20 

Lawyer.  If  it  can  be  proved  they  have  but  kissed  one 
another  — 

Flam.   What  then  ? 

Lawyer.   My  lord  cardinal  will  ferret  them. 

Flam.   A  cardinal,  I  hope,  will  not  catch  conies. ° 


64  ^'HE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  ill 

Lawyer.  For  to  sow  kisses  (mark  what  I  say),  to  sow 
lasses  is  to  reap  lechery ;  and,  I  am  sure,  a  woman  that 
will  endure  kissing  is  half  won. 

Flam.  True,  her  upper  part,  by  that  rule ;  if  you  will 
win  her  nether  part  too,  you  know  what  follows.         30 

Lawyer.   Hark  !    the  ambassadors  are  'lighted. 

Flam.   I  do  put  on  this  feigned  garb  of  mirth, 
To  gull  suspicion. 

Mar.  O  my  unfortunate  sister  ! 

r"    I  would  my  dagger-point  had  cleft  her  heart 
When  she  first  saw  Brachiano  :  you,  'tis  said, 
Were  made  his  engine,  and  his  stalking-horse, 
To  undo  my  sister. 

Flam.  I  made  a  kind  of  path 

To  her,  and  mine  own  preferment. 

Mar.  Your  ruin, 

t-^     Flam.   Hum  !   thou  art  a  soldier, 

Followest  the  great  duke,  feed'st  his  victories,  4° 

As  witches  do  their  serviceable  spirits, 

Even  with  thy  prodigal  blood :    what  hast  got  ? 

But,  like  the  wealth  of  captains,  a  poor  handful. 

Which  in  thy  palm  thou  bear'st,  as  men  hold  water ; 

Seeking  to  gripe  it  fast,  the  frail  reward 

Steals  through  thy  fingers. 

Alar.      •  Sir ! 

Flam.  Thou  hast  scarce  maintenance 

To  keep  thee  in  fresh  shamois. 

Mar.  Brother ! 

Flam.  Hear  me : 

And  thus,  when  we  have  even  poured  ourselves 
Into  great  fights,  for  their  ambition, 
Or  idle  spleen,  how  shall  we  find  reward  ?  5° 

But  as  we  seldom  find  the  mistletoe 
Sacred  to  physic,  or  the  builder  oak,  ° 
Without  a  mandrake  by  it ;  so  in  our  quest  of  gain, 
Alas,  the  poorest  of  their  forced  dislikes 
At  a  limb  proffers,  but  at  heart  it  strikes  ! 


SCENE  II]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  65 

This  is  lamented  doctrine. 

Mar.  Come,  come. 

Flam.   When  age  shall  turn  thee 
White  as  a  blooming  hawthorn  — 

Mar.  I'll  interrupt  you : 

For  love  of  virtue  bear  an  honest  heart, 
And  stride  o'er  every  politic  respect,''  60 

Which,  where  they  most  advance,  they  most  infect. 
Were  I  your  father,  as  I  am  your  brother, 
I  should  not  be  ambitious  to  leave  you 
A  better  patrimony. 

Flam.  I'll  think  on't. 

The  lord  ambassadors. 

[The  Ambassadors  pass  over  the  stage  severally. 

Lawyer.  O  my  sprightly  Frenchman  !  Do  you  know 
him  ?  he's  an  admirable  tilter. 

Flam.  I  saw  him  at  last  tilting :  he  showed  like  a 
pewter  candlestick  fashioned  like  a  man  in  armour, 
holding  a  tilting  staff  in  his  hand,  little  bigger  than  a 
candle  of  twelve  i'  th'  pound.  71 

Lawyer.   O,  but  he's  an  excellent  horseman  ! 

Flam.  A  lame  one  in  his  lofty  tricks;  he  sleeps 
a-horseback,  like  a  poulter. 

Lawyer.   Lo  you,  my  Spaniard  ! 

Flam.  He  carries  his  face  in's  ruff,  as  I  have  seen  a 
serving-man  carry  glasses  in  a  cypress  hatband,  mon- 
strous steady,  for  fear  of  breaking;  he  looks  like  the 
claw  of  a  blackbird,  first  salted,  and  then  broiled  in  a 
candle."  [Exeunt.     80 

The  Arraignment  of  Vittoria 

Enter  Francisco,  Monticelso,  the  six  lieger  Ambassa- 
dors, Brachiano,  Vittoria,  Flamineo,  Marcello, 
Lawyer,  and  a  Guard 

Mont.    Forbear,  my  lord,  here  is  no  place  assigned  you. 
This  business,  by  his  holiness,  is  left 
To  our  examination. 


66  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  in 

Brack.  May  it  thrive  with  you! 

[Lays  a  rich  gown  under  him. 

Fran.   A  chair  there  for  his  lordship. 

Brach.   Forbear  your  kindness :  an  unbidden  guest 
Should  travel  as  Dutch  women  go  to  church, 
Bear  their  stools  with  them. 

Mont.  At  your  pleasure,  sir. 

Stand  to  the  table,  gentlewoman.     Now,  signior. 
Fall  to  your  plea. 

Lawyer.   D amine  judex,  converte  oculos  in  hanc  pestem, 
mulierum  corruptissimam.^  91 

ViL   What's  he  ? 

Fra7i.  A  lawyer  that  pleads  against  you.  ■ 

Vit.   Pray,  my  lord,  let  him  speak  his  usual  tongue, 
I'll  make  no  answer  else. 

Fran.  Why,  you  understand  Latin. 

Vit.   I  do,  sir,  but  amongst  this  auditory 
Which  come  to  hear  my  cause,  the  half  or  more 
May  be  ignorant  in't. 

Mont.  Go  on,  sir. 

Vit.  By  your  favour, 

I  will  not  have  my  accusation  clouded 
In  a  strange  tongue :  all  this  assembly 
Shall  hear  what  you  can  charge  me  with. 

Fran.  Signior,     100 

You  need  not  stand  on't  much ;  pray,  change  your  lan- 
guage. 

Mont.   O,  for  God's  sake  —  Gentlewoman,  your  credit 
Shall  be  more  famous  by  it. 

Lawyer.  Well  then,  have  at  you. 

Vit.   I  am  at  the  mark,  sir ;  I'll  give  aim"  to  you, 
And  tell  you  how  near  you  shoot. 

'^    Lawyer.    Most  literated  judges,  please  your  lordships 
So  to  connive  your  judgements  to  the  view 
Of  this  debauched  and  diversivolent  "  woman ; 
Who  such  a  black  concatenation 
Of  mischief  hath  effected,  that  to  extirp  no 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  67 

The  memory  oft,  must  be  the  consummation 
Of  her,  and  her  projections  — 

Vit.  What's  all  this  ? 

Lawyer.   Hold  yoUr  peace  ! 
Exorbitant  sins  must  have  exulceration. 

Vii.   Surely,  my  lords,  this  lawyer  here  hath  swallowed 
Some  'pothecaries  bills,  or  proclamations ; 
And  now  the  hard  and  undigestible  words 
Come  up,  like  stones  we  use  give  hawks  for  physic. 
Why,  this  is  Welsh  to  Latin." 

Lawyer.  My  lords,  the  woman 

Knows  not  her  tropes,  nor  figures,  nor  is  perfect  120 

In  the  academic  derivation 
Of  grammatical  elocution. 

Fran.  Sir,  your  pains 

Shall  be  well  spared,  and  your  deep  eloquence 
Be  worthily  applauded  amongst  those 
Which  understand  you. 

Lawyer.  My  good  lord  — 

Fran.  Sir, 

Put  up  your  papers  in  your  fustian  °  bag, 

[Francisco  speaks  this  as  in  scorn. 
Cry  mercy,  sir,  'tis  buckram,  and  accept 
My  notion  of  your  learned  verbosity. 

Lawyer.   I  most  graduatically  thank  your  lordship : 
I  shall  have  use  for  them  elsewhere.  [Exit.     13° 

Mont.   I  shall  be  plainer  with  you,  and  paint  out 
Your  follies  in  more  natural  red  and  white 
Than  upon  your  cheek. 

Vit.  O,  you  mistake  1 

You  raise  a  blood  as  noble  in  this  cheek 
As  ever  was  your  mother's. 

Mont.   I  must  spare  you,  till  proof  cry  whore  to  that. 
Observe  this  creature  here,  my  honoured  lords, 
A  woman  of  a  most  prodigious  spirit. 
In  her  effected." 

Vit.  My  honourable  lord, 


68  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  in 

It  doth  not  suit  a  reverend  cardinal  140 

To  play  the  lawyer  thus. 

Mont.   O,  your  trade  instructs  your  language  ! 
You  see,  my  lords,  what  goodly  fruit  she  seems ; 
Yet  like  those  apples  travellers  report 
To  grow  where  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  stood, 
I  will  but  touch  her,  and  you  straight  shall  see 
She'll  fall  to  soot  and  ashes." 

Vit.  Your  envenomed 

'Pothecary  should  do't. 

Mont.  I  am  resolved, 

Were  there  a  second  Paradise  to  lose. 
This  devil  would  betray  it. 

Vit.  0  poor  charity !  150 

Thou  art  seldom  found  in  scarlet." 

Mont.   Who  knows  not  how,  when  several  night  by 
night 
Her  gates  were  choked  with  coaches,  and  her  rooms 
Outbraved  the  stars  with  several  kind  of  lights ; 
When  she  did  counterfeit  a  prince's  court 
In  music,  banquets,  and  most  riotous  surfeits ; 
This  whore  forsooth  was  holy. 

Vit.  Ha  !  whore  !  what's  that  ? 

Mont.    Shall  I  expound  whore  to  you  ?    sure,  I  shall  ; 
I'll  give  their  perfect  character.     They  are  first. 
Sweetmeats  which  rot  the  eater ;  in  man's  nostrils       i6o 
Poisoned  perfumes.     They  are  cozening  alchemy ; 
Shipwrecks  in  calmest  weather.     What  are  whores  ! 
Cold  Russian  winters,  that  appear  so  barren, 
As  if  that  nature  had  forgot  the  spring. 
They  are  the  true  material  fire  of  hell : 
Worse  than  those  tributes  i'  th'  Low  Countries  paid, 
Exactions  upon  meat,  drink,  garments,  sleep. 
Aye,  even  on  man's  perdition,  his  sin. 
They  are  those  brittle  evidences  of  law. 
Which  forfeit  all  a  wretched  man's  estate  17° 

For  leaving  out  one  syllable.     What  are  whores  ! 


SCENE  II]  THE  WHITE   DEVIL  69 

They  are  those  flattering  bells  have  all  one  tune, 

At  weddings  and  at  funerals.     Your  rich  whores 

Are  only  treasuries  by  extortion  lilled, 

And  emptied  by  cursed  riot.     They  are  worse, 

Worse     than     dead     bodies     which     are     begged     at 

gallows, 
And  wrought  upon  by  surgeons,  to  teach  man 
Wherein  he  is  imperfect.     What's  a  whore  ! 
She's  like  the  guilty  counterfeited  coin. 
Which,  whosoe'er  first  stamps  it,  brings  in  trouble        180 
All  that  receive  it. 

Vit.  This  character  scapes  me. 

Mont.   You,  gentlewoman  ! 
Take  from  all  beasts  and  from  all  minerals 
Their  deadly  poison  — 

ViL  Well,  what  then  ? 

Mont.  I'll  tell  thee ; 

I'll  find  in  thee  a  'pothecary's  shop, 
To  sample  them  all." 

Fr.  Amh.  She  hath  lived  ill. 

Eng.  Amb.   True,  but  the  cardinal's  too  bitter. 

Mont.   You   know   what   whore   is.     Next   the   devil 
adultery, 
Enters  the  devil  murder. 

Fran.  Your  unhappy 

Husband  is  dead. 

Vit.  O,  he's  a  happy  husband ! "  190 

Now  he  owes  nature  nothing. 

Fran.   And  by  a  vaulting  engine. 

Mont.  An  active  plot, 

He  jumped  into  his  grave. 

Fran.  WTiat  a  prodigy  was  't, 

That  from  some  two  yards'  height,  a  slender  man 
Should  break  his  neck  ! 

Mont.  V  th'  rushes  !  " 

Fran.  And  what's  more. 

Upon  the  instant  lose  all  use  of  speech. 


70  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  hi 

i\ll  vital  motion,  like  a  man  had  lain 

Wound  up"  three  days.     Now  mark  each  circumstance. 

Mont.   And  look  upon  this  creature  was  his  wife  ! 
She  comes  not  like  a  widow ;  she  comes  armed  200 

With    scorn    and     impudence :    is    this    a    mourning- 
habit  ? 

Vit.   Had  I  foreknown  his  death,  as  you  suggest, 
I  would  have  bespoke  my  mourning. 

Mont.  O,  you  are  cunning  ! 

Vit.   You  shame  your  wit  and  judgement. 
To  call  it  so.     What !  is  my  just  defence 
By  him  that  is  my  judge  called  impudence  ? 
Let  me  appeal  then  from  this  Christian  court " 
To  the  uncivil  Tartar. 

Mont.  .    See,  my  lords, 

She  scandals  our  proceedings. 

Vit.  Humbly  thus, 

Thus  low,  to  the  most  worthy  and  respected  210 

Lieger  ambassadors,  my  modesty 
And  womanhood  I  tender ;  but  withal. 
So  entangled  in  a  cursed  accusation. 
That  my  defence,  of  force,  hke  Portia's, ° 
Must  personate  masculine  virtue.     To  the  point. 
Find  me  but  guilty,  sever  head  from  body, 
We'll  part  good  friends :  I  scorn  to  hold  my  life 
At  yours,  or  any  man's  entreaty,  sir. 

Eng.  Amh.    She  hath  a  brave  spirit. 

Mont.   Well,  well,  such  counterfeit  jewels  220 

Make  true  ones  oft  suspected. 

Vit.  You  are  deceived : 

For  know,  that  all  your  strict-combined  heads, 
Which  strike  against  this  mine  of  diamonds, 
Shall  prove  but  glassen  hammers :  they  shall  break. 
These  are  but  feigned  shadows  of  my  evils. 
(Terrify  babes,  my  lord,  with  painted  devils, 
I  am  past  such  needless  palsy.     For  your  names 
lOf  whore  and  murderess,  they  proceed  from  you, 


SCENKII]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  /I 

As  if  a  man  should  spit  against  the  wind :     I 

The  filth  returns  in  's  face.  ^  230 

Mont.   Pray  you,  mistress,  satisfy  me  one  question  : 
Who  lodged  beneath  your  roof  that  fatal  night 
Your  husband  brake  his  neck  ? 

Brack.  That  question 

Enforceth  me  break  silence :  I  was  there. 

Mont.   Your  business  ? 

Brack.  Why,  I  came  to  comfort  her, 

And  take  some  course  for  settling  her  estate. 
Because  I  heard  her  husband  was  in  debt 
To  you,  my  lord. 

Mont.  He  was. 

Brack.  And  'twas  strangely  feared, 

That  you  would  cozen  her. 

Mont.  Who  made  you  overseer  ? 

Brack.   Why,  my  charity,  my  charity,  which  should 

flow  240 

From  every  generous  and  noble  spirit, 
To  orphans  and  to  widows. 

Mont.  Your  lust ! 

Brack.    Cowardly  dogs  bark  loudest :  sirrah  priest, 
I'll  talk  with  you  hereafter.     Do  you  hear  ? 
The  sword  you  frame  of  such  an  excellent  temper, 
I'll  sheathe  in  your  own  bowels. 
There  are  a  number  of  thy  coat  resemble 
Your  common  post-boys. 

Mont.  Ha ! 

Brack.   Your  mercenary  post-boys ; 
Your  letters  carry  truth,  but  'tis  your  guise  250 

To  fill  your  mouths  with  gross  and  impudent  lies." 

Serv.   My  lord,  your  gown. 

Brack.  Thou  liest,  'twas  my  stool: 

Bestow't  upon  thy  master,  that  will  challenge 
The  rest  a'  th'  household-stufT ;   for  Brachiano 
Was  ne'er  so  beggarly  to  take  a  stool 
Out  of  another's  lodging :  let  him  make 


72  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  hi 

Vallance  for  his  bed  on't,  or  a  demy  foot-cloth  ° 

For  his  most  reverend  moile.     Monticelso, 

Nemo  me  impune  lacessit.  [Exit. 

Mont.   Your  champion's  gone. 

Vit.  The  wolf  may  prey  the  better.     260 

Fran.   My  lord,  there's  great  suspicion  of  the  murder, 
But  no  sound  proof  who  did  it.     For  my  part, 
I  do  not  think  she  hath  a  soul  so  black 
To  act  a  deed  so  bloody ;  if  she  have, 
As  in  cold  countries  husbandmen  plant  vines, 
And  with  warm  blood  manure  them ;  even  so 
One  summer  she  will  bear  unsavoury  fruit, 
And  ere  next  spring  wither  both  branch  and  root. 
The  act  of  blood  let  pass  ;°  only  descend 
To  matter  of  incontinence. 

Vit.  I  discern  poison  270 

Under  your  gilded  pills. 

Mont.   Now  the  duke's  gone,  I  will  produce  a  letter 
Wherein  'twas  plotted,  he  and  you  should  meet 
At  an  apothecary's  summer-house, 
Down  by  the  river  Tiber,  —  view't  my  lords,  — 
Where  after  wanton  bathing  and  the  heat 
Of  a  lascivious  banquet  —  I  pray  read  it, 
I  shame  to  speak  the  rest. 

Vit.  Grant  I  was  tempted ; 

Temptation  to  lust  proves  not  the  act : 
Casta  est  quam  nemo  rogavit.^  280 

You  read  his  hot  love  to  me,  but  you  want 
My  frosty  answer. 

Mont.  Frost  i'  th'  dog-days  !  strange  ! 

Vit.    Condemn  you  me  for  that  the  duke  did  love  me  ? 
So  may  you  blame  some  fair  and  crystal  river. 
For  that  some  melancholic  distracted  man 
Hath  drowned  himself  in't. 

Mont.  Truly  drowned,  indeed. 

Vit.   Sum  up  my  faults,  I  pray,  and  you  shall  find, 
That  beauty  and  gay  clothes,  a  merry  heart. 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  73 

And  a  good  stomach  to  feast,  are  all, 

All  the  poor  crimes  that  you  can  charge  me  with.  290 

In  faith,  my  lord,  you  might  go  pistol  Ihes, 

The  sport  would  be  more  noble. 

Mont.  Very  good. 

Vit.   But    take    you    your    course :   it   seems    you've 
beggared  me  first, 
And  now  would  fain  undo  me.     I  have  houses, 
Jewels,  and  a  poor  remnant  of  crusadoes ; 
Would  those  would  make  you  charitable  ! 

Mont.  If  the  devil 

Did  ever  take  good  shape,  behold  his  picture. 

Vit.   You  have  one  virtue  left,  —  you  will  not  flatter 
me. 

Fran.   Who  brought  this  letter  ? 

Vit.  I  am  not  compelled  to  tell  you. 

Mont.   My  lord  duke  sent  to  you  a  thousand  ducats 
The  twelfth  of  August. 

Vit.  'Twas  to  keep  your  cousin      3°^ 

From  prison  ;   I  paid  use  for't. 

Mont.  I  rather  think, 

'Twas  interest  for  his  lust. 

Vit.   Who  says  so  but  yourself  ?  if  you  be  my  accuser, 
Pray  cease  to  be  my  judge :  come  from  the  bench  ; 
Give  in  your  evidence  'gainst  me,  and  let  these 
Be  moderators.     My  lord  cardinal. 
Were  your  intelligencing  ears  as  loving 
As  to  my  thoughts,"  had  you  an  honest  tongue, 
I  would  not  care  though  you  proclaimed  them  all.        31° 

Mont.   Go  to,  go  to. 
After  your  goodly  and  vainglorious  banquet, 
I'll  give  you  a  choke-pear. 

Vit.  A'  your  own  grafting  ? 

Mont.   You  were  born  in  Venice,  honourably  descended 
From  the  Vittelli :   'twas  my  cousin's  fate,  — 
111  may  I  name  the  hour,  —  to  marry  you ; 
He  bought  you  of  your  father. 


74  THE    WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iii 

Vit.  Ha ! 

Mont.   He  spent  there  in  six  months 
Twelve  thousand  ducats,  and  (to  my  acquaintance) 
Received  in  dowry  \vith  you  not  one  julio  :  320 

'Twas  a  hard  pennyworth,  the  ware  being  so  Ught. 
I  yet  but  draw  the  curtain  ;  now  to  your  picture : 
You  came  from  thence  a  most  notorious  strumpet. 
And  so  you  have  continued. 

Vit.  My  lord ! 

Mont.  Nay,  hear  me, 

You  shall  have  time  to  prate.     My  lord  Brachiano  — 
Alas  !     I  make  but  repetition. 
Of  what  is  ordinary  and  Rialto  talk," 
And  ballated,  and  would  be  played  a'  th'  stage, 
But  that  vice  many  times  finds  such  loud  friends, 
That  preachers  are  charmed  silent.  330 

You,  gentlemen,  Flamineo  and  Marcello, 
The  court  hath  nothing  now  to  charge  you  with, 
Only  you  must  remain  upon  your  sureties 
For  your  appearance. 

Fran.  I  stand  for  Marcello. 

Flam.   And  my  lord  duke  for  me. 

Mont.   For  you,  Vittoria,  your  public  fault. 
Joined  to  th'  condition  of  the  present  time. 
Takes  from  you  all  the  fruits  of  noble  pity. 
Such  a  corrupted  trial  have  you  made 
Both  of  your  life  and  beauty,  and  been  styled  340 

No  less  an  ominous  fate  than  blazing  stars 
To  princes.     Hear  your  sentence :  you  are  confined 
Unto  a  house  of  convertites,"  and  your  bawd  — 

Flam.   Who,  I  ? 

Mont.  The  Moor. 

Flam.  O,  I  am  a  sound  man  again. 

Vit.   A  house  of  convertites  !  what's  that  ? 

Mont.  A  house 

Of  penitent  whores. 

Vit.  Do  the  noblemen  in  Rome 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  75 

Erect  it  for  their  wives,  that  I  am  sent 
To  lodge  there  ? 

Fran.   You  must  have  patience. 

Vit,  I  must  first  have  vengeance. 

I  fain  would  know  if  you  have  your  salvation  350 

By  patent,  that  you  proceed  thus. 

Mont.   Away  with  her!    Take  her  hence. 

Vit.   A  rape  !  a  rape  ! 

Mont.  How  ? 

Vit.  Yes,  you  have  ravished  justice ; 

Forced  her  to  do  your  pleasure. 

Mont.  Fie,  she's  mad  ! 

Vit.  Die  with  those  pills  in  your  most  cursed  maw, 
Should  bring  you  health  !  or  while  you  sit  o'  th'  bench, 
Let  your  own  spittle  choke  you  ! 

Mont.  She's  turned  fury. 

Vit.   That  the  last  day  of  judgement  may  so  find  you, 
And  leave  you  the  same  devil  you  were  before  ! 
Instruct  me,  some  good  horse-leech,  to  speak  treason ;  360 
For  since  you  cannot  take  my  life  for  deedsj 
Take  it  for  words.  1  O  woman's  poor  revenge. 
Which  dwells  buFin  the  tongue  !     I  will  not  weep ; 
No,  I  do  scorn  to  call  up  one  poor  tear 
To  fawn  on  your  injustice  :  bear  me  hence 
Unto  this  house  of  —  what's  your  mitigating  title  ? 

Alont.   Of  convertites. 

Vit.   It  shall  not  be  a  house  of  convertites ; 
My  mind  shall  make  it  honester  to  me 
Than  the  Pope's  palace,  and  more  peaceable  370 

Than  thy  soul,  though  thou  art  a  cardinal. 
Know  this,  and  let  it  somewhat  raise  your  spite. 
Through  darkness  diamonds  spread  their  richest  light. 

[Exit  guarded. 

Enter  Brachiano 

Brack.   Now  ycu  and  I  are  friends,  sir,  we'll  shake 
hands 


76  THE   WHITE  DEVIL  [act  ill 

In  a  friend's  grave  together,"  a  fit  place, 

Being  th'  emblem  of  soft  peace,  t'atone  our  hatred. 

Fran.  Sir,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Brack.   I  will  not  chase  more  blood  from  that  loved 
cheek ; 
You  have  lost  too  much  already ;   fare  you  well.     [Exit. 

Fran.   How  strange  these   words  sound !    what's  the 
interpretation  ?  380 

Flam.  [Aside.]  Good;  this  is  a  preface  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  duchess's  death :  he  carries  it  well.  Be- 
cause now  I  cannot  counterfeit  a  whining  passion  for 
the  death  of  my  lady,*  I  will  feign  a  mad  humour  for 
the  disgrace  of  my  sister ;  and  that  will  keep  off  idle 
f"  questions.  Treason's  tongue  hath  a  villainous  palsy 
Mn't ;  I  will  talk  to  any  man,  hear  no  man,  and  for  a 
time  appear  a  politic  madman.  [Exit. 


Enter  Giovanni,  and  Count  Lodovico 

Fran.   How  now,  my  noble  cousin  ?  what,  in  black  ! 

Giov.   Yes,  uncle,  I  was  taught  to  imitate  you  39° 

In  virtue,  and  you  must  imitate  me 
In  colours  of  your  garments.     My  sweet  mother 
Is  — 

Fran.    How?  where? 

Giov.   Is  there ;  no,  yonder :  indeed,  sir,  I'll  not  tell 
you. 
For  I  shall  make  you  weep. 

Fran.  Is  dead  ? 

Giov.   Do  not  blame  me  now, 
I  did  not  tell  you  so. 

Lod.  She's  dead,  my  lord. 

Fran.   Dead  ! 

Mont.         Blessed  lady,  thou  art  now  above  thy  woes  ! 
Wilt  please  your  lordships  to  withdraw  a  little  ?  ° 

[Exeunt  Ambassadors. 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  "jy 

Giov.  What  do  the  dead  do,  uncle  ?  do  they  eat,      400 
Hear  music,  go  a  hunting,  and  be  merry, 
As  we  that  live  ? 

Fran.   No,  coz ;   they  sleep. 

Giov.  Lord,  lord,  that  I  were  dead  ! 

I  have  not  slept   these   six    nights.      When  do   they 
wake? 

Fran.   When  God  shall  please. 

Giov.  Good  God,  let  her  sleep  ever  ! 

For  I  have  known  her  wake  an  hundred  nights, 
When  all  the  pillow  where  she  laid  her  head 
Was  brine-wet  with  her  tears.     I  am  to  complain  to  you, 

sir; 
I'll  tell  you  how  they  have  used  her  now  she's  dead : 
They  wrapped  her  in  a  cruel  fold  of  lead,  410 

And  would  not  let  me  kiss  her. 

Fran.  Thou  did'st  love  her. 

Giov.   I  have  often  heard  her  say  she  gave  me  suck. 
And  it  should  seem  by  that  she  dearly  loved  me, 
Since  princes  seldom  do  it. 

Fran.   O,  all  of  my  poor  sister  that  remains  ! 
Take  him  away  for  God's  sake  ?  [Exit  Giovanni, 

Mont.  How  now,  my  lord  ? 

Fran.   Believe  me,  I  am  nothing  but  her  grave ; 
And  I  shall  keep  her  blessed  memory 
Longer  than  thousand  epitaphs. 


Enter  Flamineo  as  distracted 

Flam.  We  endure  the  strokes  like  anvils  or  hard  steel. 
Till  pain  itself  make  us  no  pain  to  feel.  421 

Who  shall  do  me  right  now  ?  is  this  the  end  of  service  ? 
I'd  rather  go  weed  garlic ;  travel  through  France,  and 
be  mine  own  ostler;  wear  sheep-skin  linings,  or  shoes 
that  stink  of  blacking ;  be  entered  into  the  list  of  the 
forty  thousand  pedlars  in  Poland. 


78  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  hi 

Enter  Savoy  Ambassador 

Would  I  had  rotted  in  some  surgeon's  house  at  Venice, 
buiit  upon  the  pox  as  well  as  on  piles,  ere  I  had  served 
Brachiano  ! 
Savoy  Amb.   You  must  have  comfort.  43° 

Flam.  Your  comfortable  words  are  like  honey:  they 
relish  well  in  your  mouth  that's  whole,  but  in  mine 
that's  wounded,  they  go  down  as  if  the  sting  of  the  bee 
were  in  them.  O,  they  have  wrought  their  purpose  cun- 
ningly, as  if  they  would  not  seem  to  do  it  of  malice  !  In 
this  a  politician  imitates  the  devil,  as  the  devil  imitates 
a  cannon;  wheresoever  he  comes  to  do  mischief,  he 
comes  with  his  backside  towards  you. 

Enter  French  and  English  x\mbassadors 

French  Amb.   The  proofs  are  evident.  439 

Flam.  Proof !  'twas  corruption.  O  gold,  what  a  god 
art  thou  !  and  0  man,  what  a  devil  art  thou  to  be 
tempted  by  that  cursed  mineral !  Yon  diversivolent 
lawyer,  mark  him  !  knaves  turn  informers,  as  maggots 
turn  to  flies,  you  may  catch  gudgeons  with  either.  A 
cardinal !  I  would  he  would  hear  me :  there's  nothing 
so  holy  but  money  will  corrupt  and  putrify  it,  like 
victual  under  the  line.°  You  are  happy  in  England,  my 
lord ;  here  they  sell  justice  with  those  weights  they 
press  men  to  death  with."     O  horrible  salary  ! 

Eng.  Amb.  Fie,  fie,  Flamineo.  45° 

[Exeunt  Ambassadors. 

Flam.  Bells  ne'er  ring  well,  till  they  are  at  their  full 
pitch;  and  I  hope  yon  cardinal  shall  never  have  the 
grace  to  pray  well,  till  he  come  to  the  scaffold.  If  they 
were  racked  now  to  know  the  confederacy :  but  your 
noblemen  are  privileged  from  the  rack ;  and  well  may, 
for  a  little  thing  would  pull  some  of  them  a'pieces 
afore  they  came  to  their  arraignment.  Religion,  O  how 
it  is  commeddled  with  policy!     The  first  blood  shed  in 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  79 

the  world  happened  about  reHgion."    Would  I  were  a 
Jew  ! "  460 

Mar.   O,  there  are  too  many  ! 

Flam.  You  are  deceived ;  there  are  not  Jews  enough, 
priests  enough,  nor  gentlemen  enough. 

Mar.   How  ?  * 

Fla?n.  I'll  prove  it;  for  if  there  were  Jews  enough, 
so  many  Christians  would  not  turn  usurers;  if  priests 
enough,  one  should  not  have  six  benefices ;  and  if  gentle- 
men enough,  so  many  early  mushrooms,  whose  best 
growth  sprang  from  a  dunghill,  should  not  aspire  to 
gentility.  Farewell :  let  others  live  by  begging :  be 
thou  one  of  them  practise  the  art  of  Wolner  in  England" 
to  swallow  all's  given  thee :  and  yet  let  one  purgation 
make  thee  as  hungry  again  as  fellows  that  work  in  a 
saw-pit.     I'll  go  hear  the  screech-owl.  [Exit.         474 

Lod.   This  was  Brachiano's  pander ;  and  'tis  strange 
That  in  such  open,  and  apparent  guilt 
Of  his  adulterous  sister,  he  dare  utter 
So  scandalous  a  passion.     I  must  wind  him. 

Re-enter  Flamineo 

Flam.    [Aside.]  How  dares  this  banished  count  return 
to  Rome, 
His  pardon  not  yet  purchased  !    I  have  heard  480 

The  deceased  duchess  gave  him  pension, 
And  that  he  came  along  from  Padua 
I'  th'  train  of  the  young  prince.     There's  somewhat  in't : 
Physicians,  that  cure  poisons,  still  do  work  / 
With  counter-poisons.  — • 

Mar.  Mark  this  strange  encounter. 

Flam.   The  god  of  melancholy  turn  thy  gall  to  poison, 
And  let  the  stigmatic  wrinkles  in  thy  face, 
Like  to  the  boisterous  waves  in  a  rough  tide, 
One  still  overtake  another. 

Lod.  I  do  thank  thee, 


8o  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  hi 

And  I  do  wish  ingeniously  for  thy  sake,  490 

The  dog-days  all  year  long. 

Flam.  How  croaks  the  raven  ? 

Is  our  good  duchess  dead  ? 

Lod.  Dead. 

Flam.  0  fate  ! 

Misfortune  comes  like  the  coroner's  business 
Huddle  upon  huddle. 

Lod.   Shalt  thou  and  I  join  housekeeping  ? 

Flam.  Yes,  content : 

Let's  be  unsociably  sociable. 

Lod.   Sit  some  three  days  together,  and  discourse  ? 

Flam.   Only  with  making  faces ;  lie  in  our  clothes. 

Lod.   With  faggots  for  our  pillows. 

Flam.  And  be  lousy. 

Lod.   In  taffeta  linings,  that's  genteel  melancholy ;  5°° 
Sleep  all  day. 

Flam.   Yes ;  and,  like  your  melancholic  hare," 
Feed  after  midnight. 
We  are  observed :  see  how  yon  couple  grieve." 

Lod.   What  a  strange  creature  is  a  laughing  fool  1 
As  if  man  were  created  to  no  use 
But  only  to  show  his  teeth. 

Flam.  I'll  tell  thee  what, 

It  would  do  well  instead  of  looking-glasses. 
To  set  one's  face  each  morning  by  a  saucer 
Of  a  witch's  congealed  blood." 

Lod.  Precious  rogue !  51° 

We'll  never  part. 

Flam.   Never,  till  the  beggary  of  courtiers. 
The  discontent  of  churchmen,  want  of  soldiers, 
And  all  the  creatures  that  hang  manacled. 
Worse  than  strappadoed,  on  the  lowest  felly 
Of  fortune's  wheel,  be  taught,  in  our  two  lives, 
To  scorn  that  world  which  life  of  means  deprives. 


SCENE  II]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  8l 

Enter  Antonelli  and  Gasparo 

Ant.   My  lord,  I  bring  good  news.     The  Pope,  on's 
death-bed, 
At  th'  earnest  suit  of  the  great  duke  of  Florence,  1 
Hath  signed  your  pardon,  and  restored  unto  you  -pJ   52° 

Lod.   I  thank  you  for  your  news.     Look  up  again, 
Flamineo,  see  my  pardon. 

Flam.  Why  do  you  laugh  ? 

There  was  no  such  condition  in  our  covenant. 

Lod.  Why? 

Flam.   You  shall  not  seem  a  happier  man  than  I : 
You  know  our  vow,  sir ;  if  you  will  be  merry, 
Do  it  i'  th'  like  posture,  as  if  some  great  man 
Sate  while  his  enemy  were  executed : 
Though  it  be  very  lechery  unto  thee, 
Do't  with  a  crabbed  politician's  face. 

Lod.   Your  sister  is  a  damnable  whore. 

Flam.  Ha !  53° 

Lod.   Look  you,  I  spake  that  laughing. 

Flam.   Dost  ever  think  to  speak  again  ? 

Lod.  Do  you  hear  ? 

Wilt  sell  me  forty  ounces  of  her  blood 
To  water  a  mandrake  ? 

Flam.  Poor  lord,  you  did  vow 

To  live  a  lousy  creature. 

Lod.  Yes. 

Flam.  Like  one 

That  had  for  ever  forfeited  the  daylight, 
By  being  in  debt. 

Lod.  Ha,  ha  ! 

Flam.   I  do  not  greatly  wonder  you  do  break," 
Your  lordship  learned't  long  since.     But  I'll  tell  you  — 

Lod.   What? 

Flam.  And't  shall  stick  by  you  — 

Lod.  I  long  for  it.     54° 

Flam.   This  laughter  scurvily  becomes  your  face : 


82  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  ill 

If  you  will  not  be  melancholy,  be  angry.        [Strikes  him. 
See,  now  I  laugh,  too. 

Mar.   You  are  to  blame :  I'll  force  you  hence. 

Lod.  Unhand  me. 

[Exeunt  Marcello  and  Flamineo. 
That  e'er  I  should  be  forced  to  right  myself, 
Upon  a  pander ! 

Ant.  My  lord! 

Lod.   H'  had  been  as  good  met  with  his  fist  a  thun- 
derbolt. 

Gas.   How  this  shows  ! 

Lod.  Ud'sdeath  ! "  how  did  my  sword  miss  him  ? 

These  rogues  that  are  most  weary  of  their  lives 
Still  scape  the  greatest  dangers.  550 

A  pox  upon  him !  all  his  reputation, 
Nay,  all  the  goodness  of  his  family. 
Is  not  worth  half  this  earthquake : 
I  learned  it  of  no  fencer  to  shake  thus : 
Come,  I'll  forget  him,  and  go  drink  some  wine.    [Exeunt. 

Scene  III° 
Enter  Francisco  and  Monticelso 

Mont.   Come,  come,  my  lord,  untie  your  folded 
thoughts. 
And  let  them  dangle  loose,  as  a  bride's  hair." 
Your  sister's  poisoned. 

Fran.  Far  be  it  from  my  thoughts 

To  seek  revenge. 

Mont.  What,  are  you  turned  all  marble  ? 

Fran.   Shall  I  defy  him,  and  impose  a  war, 
Most  burdensome  on  my  poor  subjects'  necks, 
Which  at  my  will  I  have  not  power  to  end  ? 
You  know  for  all  the  murders,  rapes,  and  thefts, 
Committed  in  the  horrid  lust  of  war, 
He  that  unjustly  caused  it  first  proceed,  10 

Shall  find  it  in  his  grave,  and  in  his  seed. 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  83 

Mont.   That's  not    the    course    I'd    wish   you ;    pray 
observe  me. 
We  see  that  undermining  more  prevails 
Than  doth  the  cannon.     Bear  your  wrongs  concealed, 
And,  patient  as  the  tortoise,  let  this  camel 
Stalk  o'er  your  back  unbruised :  sleep  with  the  lion, 
And  let  this  brood  of  secure  foolish  mice 
Play  with  your  nostrils,  till  the  time  be  ripe 
For  th'  bloody  audit,  and  the  fatal  gripe : 
Aim  like  a  cunning  fowler,  close  one  eye,  20 

That  you  the  better  may  your  game  espy. 

Fran.   Free  me,  my  innocence,  from  treacherous  acts  1 
I  know  there's  thunder  yonder ;  and  FU  stand, 
Like  a  safe  valley,  which  low  bends  the  knee 
To  some  aspiring  mountain  :  since  I  know 
Treason,  like  spiders  weaving  nets  for  flies. 
By  her  foul  work  is  found,  and  in  it  dies. 
To  pass  away  these  thoughts,  my  honoured  lord. 
It  is  reported  you  possess  a  book. 

Wherein  you  have  quoted,  by  intelligence,  30 

The  names  of  all  notorious  offenders 
Lurking  about  the  city. 

Mont.  Sir,  I  do ; 

And  some  there  are  which  call  it  my  black  book. 
Well  may  the  title  hold ;   for  though  it  teach  not 
The  art  of  conjuring,  yet  in  it  lurk 
The  names  of  many  devils. 

Fran.  Pray  let's  see  it. 

Mont.   I'll  fetch  it  to  your  lordship.  [Exit. 

Fran.  Monticelso, 

I  will  not  trust  thee,  but  in  all  my  plots 
I'll  rest  as  jealous  as  a  town  besieged. 
Thou  canst  not  reach  what  I  intend  to  act :  40 

Your  flax  soon  kindles,  soon  is  out  again. 
But  gold  slow  heats,  and  long  will  hot  remain. 


84  THE    WHITE   DEVIL  [act  hi 

Enter  Monticelso,  presents  Francisco  with  a  book 

Mont.   'Tis  here,  my  lord. 

Fran.   First,  your  intelligencers,  pray  let's  see. 

Mont.   Their  number  rises  strangely,  and  some  of  them 
You'd  take  for  honest  men.     Next  are  panders:* 
These  are  your  pirates ;  and  these  following  leaves 
For  base  rogues  that  undo  young  gentlemen, 
By  taking  up  commodities  ;  ^  for  politic  bankrupts ; 
For  fellows  that  are  bawds  to  their  own  wives,  50 

Only  to  put  off  horses,  and  slight  jewels, 
Clocks,  defaced  plate,  and  such  commodities. 
At  birth  of  their  first  children. 

Fran.  Are  there  such  ? 

Mont.   These  are  for  impudent  bawds, 
That  go  in  men's  apparel ;  for  usurers 
That  share  with  scriveners  for  their  good  reportage 
For  lawyers  that  will  antedate  their  writs : 
And  some  divines  you  might  find  folded  there, 
But  that  I  slip  them  o'er  for  conscience'  sake. 
Here  is  a  general  catalogue  of  knaves  :  60 

A  man  might  study  all  the  prisons  o'er. 
Yet  never  attain  this  knowledge. 

Fran.  Murderers? 

Fold  down  the  leaf,  I  pray ; 
Good  my  lord,  let  me  borrow  this  strange  doctrine. 

Mont.   Pray,  use't,  my  lord. 

Fran.  I  do  assure  your  lordship, 

You  are  a  worthy  member  of  the  state, 
And  have  done  infinite  good  in  your  discovery 
Of  these  offenders. 

Mont.  Somewhat,  sir. 

Fran.  0  God ! 

Better  than  tribute  of  wolves  paid  in  England ; 
'Twill  hang  their  skins  o'  th'  hedge. 

Mont.  I  must  make  bold     7° 

To  leave  your  lordship. 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  85 

Fran.  Dearly,  sir,  I  thank  you : 

If  any  ask  for  me  at  court,  report 
You  have  left  me  in  the  company  of  knaves. 

[Exit    MONTICELSO. 

I  gather  now  by  this,"  some  cunning  fellow 

That's  my  lord's  officer,  and  that  lately  skipped 

From  a  clerk's  desk  up  to  a  justice'  chair. 

Hath  made  this  knavish  summons,  and  intends, 

As  th'  Irish  rebels  wont  were  to  sell  heads. 

So  to  make  prize  of  these.     And  thus  it  hajipens : 

Your  poor  rogues  pay  for't  wliich  have  not  the  means  80 

To  present  bribe  in  fist ;  the  rest  o'  th'  band 

Are  razed  out  of  the  knaves'  record;  or  else 

My  lord  he  winks  at  them  with  easy  will ; 

His  man  grows  rich,  the  knaves  are  the  knaves  still. 

But  to  the  use  I'll  make  of  it ;  it  shall  serve 

To  point  me  out  a  list  of  murderers. 

Agents  for  any  villainy.     Did  I  want 

Ten  leash  of  courtesans,  it  would  furnish  me ; 

Nay,  laundress,  three  armies."    That  so  little  paper 

Should  be  th'  undoing  of  so  many  men  !  90 

'Tis  not  so  big  as  twenty  declarations. 

See  the  corrupted  use  some  make  of  books : 

Divinity,"  wrested  by  some  factious  blood. 

Draws  swords,  swells  battles,  and  o'erthrows  all  good. 

To  fashion  my  revenge  more  seriously,        - — 

Let  me  remember  my  dead  sister's  face :         / 

Call  for  her  picture  ?  no,  I'll  close  mine  eyes, 

And  in  a  melancholic  thought  I'll  frame 

Enter  Isabei,la's  Ghost 

Her  figure  fore  me.     Now  I  ha't  —  how  strong  ( 
Imagination  works  !  how  she  can  frame  100 

Things  which  are  not !  methinks  she  stands  afore  me. 
And  by  the  quick  idea  of  my  mind, 
Were  my  skill  pregnant,  I  could  draw  her  picture. 


86  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  hi 

Thought,  as  a  subtle  juggler,  makes  us  deem 

Things  supernatural,  which  yet  have  cause 

Common  as  sickness.     'Tis  my  melancholy. 

How  cam'st  thou  by  thy  death  ?  —  how  idle  am  I 

To  question  mine  own  idleness  !  —  did  ever 

Man  dream  awake  till  now  ?  —  remove  this  object ; 

Out  of  my  brain  with't :  what  have  I  to  do  no 

With  tombs,  or  death-beds,  funerals,  or  tears, 

That  have  to  meditate  upon  revenge  ?  [Exit  Ghost. 

So,  now  -'tis  ended,  like  an  old  wife's  story. 

Statesmen  think  often  they  see  stranger  sights 

Than  madmen.     Come,  to  this  weighty  business. 

My  tragedy  must  have  some  idle  mirth  in't, 

[  —Else  it  will  never  pass.     I  am  in  love, 

';   In  love  with  Corombona ;  and  my  suit 

'    Thus  halts  to  her  in  verse.  —  [He  writes. 

I  have  done  it  rarely :  O  the  fate  of  princes  !  120 

I  am  so  used  to  frequent  flattery. 
That,  being  alone,  I  now  flatter  myself : 
But  it  will  serve ;  'tis  sealed.     Bear  this 

Enter  Servant 

To  the  house  of  convertites,  and  watch  your  leisure 
To  give  it  to  the  hands  of  Corombona, 
Or  to  the  matron,  when  some  followers 
Of  Brachiano  may  be  by.     Away !  [Exit  Servant. 

He  that  deals  all  by  strength,  his  wit  is  shallow ; 
When  a  man's  head  goes  through,  each  limb  will  follow. 
The  engine  for  my  business,  bold  count  Lodowick ;       130 
'Tis  gold  must  such  an  instrument  procure, 
With  empty  fist  no  man  doth  falcons  lure. 


i-^rachiano,  I  am  now  fit  for  thy  encounter : 

^  Like  the  wild  Irish,  I'll  ne'er  think  thee  dead 

j  Till  I  can  play  at  football  with  thy  head. 

^'THectere  si  nequeo  super os,  Acheronta  niovebo^  [Exit^ 


ACT  THE   FOURTH 
Scene  I" 

Enter  the  Matron,  and  Flamineo 

Matron.   Should   it   be   known    the   duke   hath   suck 
recourse 
To  your  imprisoned  sister,  I  were  like 
T'  incur  much  damage  by  it. 

Flam.  Not  a  scruple. 

|The  Pope  hes  on  his  death-bed,  and  their  head^ 
Are  troubled  now  with  other  business 
Than  guarding  of  a  lady. 

Enter  Servant 

Servant.    [Aside.]     Yonder's  Flamineo  in  conference 
With  the  matrona.  —  Let  me  speak  with  you : 
I  would  entreat  you  to  deliver  for  me 
This  letter  to  the  fair  Vittoria.  lo 

Matron.   I  shall,  sir. 

Servant.  With  all  care  and  secrecy ; 

Hereafter  you  shall  know  me,  and  receive 
Thanks  for  this  courtesy.  [Exit. 

Flam.  How  now  ?  what's  that  ? 

Matron.   A  letter. 

Flam.  To  my  sister  ?    I'll  see't  deUvered. 

Enter  Brachiano 

Brack.   What's  that  you  read,  Flamineo  ? 
Flam.  Look. 

87 


88  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

Brack.  ■'  Ha  1 

"To  the  most  ufifortunate,  his  best  respected 
Vittoria."  —  Who  was  the  messenger  ? 

Flam.   I  know  not. 

Brack.  No  !  who  sent  it  ? 

Flam.   Ud'sfoot !  you  speak,  as  if  a  man 
Should  know  what  fowl  is  coffined  in  a  baked  meat"    20 
Afore  you  cut  it  up. 

Brack.  I'll  open't,  were't    her    heart.     What's    here 
^_     subscribed ! 

/Florence  !  this  juggling  is  gross  and  palpable. 
I  have  found  out  the  conveyance.     Read  it,  read  it. 

Flam.    "Your  tears  I'll  turn  to  triumphs,  be  but  mine ; 
Your  prop  is  fallen :  I  pity,  that  a  vine. 
Which  princes  heretofore  have  longed  to  gather. 
Wanting  supporters,  now  should  fade  and  wither." 
(Wine,  i'  faith,  my  lord,  with  lees  would  serve  his  turn.) 
"Your  sad  imprisonment  I'll  soon  uncharm,  3° 

And  with  a  princely  uncontrolled  arm 
Lead  you  to  Florence,  where  my  love  and  care 
Shall  hang  your  wishes  in  my  silver  hair." 
(A  halter  on  his  strange  equivocation  !) 
"Nor  for  my  years  return  me  the  sad  ^^^llow, 
[who  prefer  blossoms  before  fruit  that's  mellow  ?  'j 
(Rotten,  on  my  knowledge,  with  lying  too  long  i'  th' 

bed-straw.) 
"And  all  the  lines  of  age  this  line  convinces; 
The  gods  never  wax  old,  no  more  do  princes." 
A  pox  on't,  tear  it ;    let's  have  no  more  atheists,     40 
For  God's  sake. 

Brack.   Ud'sdeath  !     I'll  cut  her  into  atomies. 
And  let  th'  irregular  north  wind  sweep  her  up,         _. 
And  blow  her  int'  his  nostrils :   where's  this  whore  ?  I 
[  Flam.   What  ?  what  do  you  call  her  ? 

Brack.  O,  I  could  be  mad  ! 

Prevent  the  cursed  disease  she'll  bring  me  to, 
And  tear  my  hair  off.     Where's  this  changeable  stufif  ? 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  89 

Flam.   O'er  head  and  ears  in  water,"  I  assure  you ; 
She  is  not  for  your  wearing. 

Brack.  No,  you  pander  ? 

Flam.    What,  me,  my  lord  ?  am  I  your  dog  ?  50 

Brack.   A  bloodhound :    do  you  brave,  do  you  stand 
me? 

Flam.  Stand  you  !  let  those  that  have  diseases  run ; 
I  need  no  plasters. 

Brack.  Would  you  be  kicked  ? 

Flam.    Would  you  have  your  neck  broke? 
I  tell  you,  duke,  I  am  not  in  Russia ; " 
My  shins  must  be  kept  whole. 

Brack.   Do  you  know  me  ? 

Flam.  0  my  lord,  methodically  ! 

As  in  this  world  there  are  degrees  of  evils, 
So  in  this  world  there  are  degrees  of  devils. 
You're  a  great  duke,  I  your  poor  secretary.  60 

I  do  look  now  for  a  Spanish  fig,  or  an  Italian  sallet," 
daily. 

Brack.   Pander,   ply  your   convoy,"   and   leave    your 
prating. 

Flam.  All  your  kindness  to  me,  is  like  that  miserable 
courtesy  of  Polyphenms  to  Ulysses ;  you  reserve  me  to 
be  devoured  last :  you  would  dig  turfs  out  of  my  grave 
to  feed  your  larks ;  that  would  be  music  to  you.  Come, 
I'll  lead  you  to  her. 

Brack.   Do  you  face  me  ?  .  69 

Flam.  O,  sir,  I  would  not  go  before  a  politic  enemy 
with  my  back  towards  him,  though  there  were  behind 
me  a  whirlpool.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II " 

Enter  Vittoria,  to  Brachiano  and  Flamineo 

Brack.  Can  you  read,  mistress  ?  look  upon  that  letter : 
There  are  no  characters,  nor  hieroglyphics. 


go  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  iv 

You  need  no  comment ;  I  am  grown  your  receiver. 
God's  precious  !  you  shall  be  a  brave  great  lady, 
A  stately  and  advanced  whore. 

Vit.  Say,  sir  ? 

Brack.    Come,  come,  let's  see  your  cabinet,  discover 
Your  treasury  of  love-letters.     Death  and  furies  ! 
I'll  see  them  all. 

Vit.  Sir,  upon  my  soul, 

I  have  not  any.     Whence  was  this  directed  ? 

Brack.    Confusion  on  your  politic  ignorance  !  °  lo 

You  are  reclaimed,  are  you  ?     I'll  give  you  the  bells," 
And  let  you  fly  to  the  devil. 

Flam.  Ware  hawk,  my  lord. 

Vit.   Florence  !  this  is  some  treacherous  plot,  my  lord ; 
To  me  he  ne'er  was  lovely,  I  protest. 
So  much  as  in  my  sleep. 

Brack.  Right!  they  are  plots. 

Your  beauty  !     O  ten  thousand  curses  on't ! 
How  long  have  I  beheld  the  devil  in  crystal !  ° 
Thou  hast  led  me,  like  an  heathen  sacrifice, 
With  music,  and  with  fatal  yokes  of  flowers, 
To  my  eternal  ruin.     Woman  to  man  20 

Is  either  a  god,  or  a  wolf. 

Vit.  My  lord  — 

Brae.  Away ! 

We'll  be  as  differing  as  two  adamants. 
The  one  shall  shun  the  other.     What !   dost  weep  ? 
Procure  but  ten  of  thy  dissembling  trade, 
Ye'd  furnish  all  the  Irish  funerals 
With  howling  past  wild  Irish. 

Flam.  Fie,  my  lord  ! 

Brack.   That  hand,  that  cursed  hand,  which  I  have 
wearied 
With  doting  kisses  !  —  O  my  sweetest  duchess. 
How  lovely  art  thou  now  !  —  My  loose  thoughts 
Scatter  like  quicksilver :  I  was  bewitched ;  30 

For  all  the  world  speaks  ill  of  thee. 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  91 

Vit.  No  matter ; 

I'll  live  so  now,  I'll  make  that  world  recant, 
And  change  her  speeches.     You  did  name  your  duchess. 

Brack.    Whose  death  God  pardon  ! 

Vit.  Whose  death  God  revenge 

On  thee,  most  godless  duke  ! 

Flam.  Now  for  ten  whirlwinds. 

Vit.    What  have  I  gained  by  thee,  but  infamy  ? 
Thou  hast  stained  the  spotless  honour  of  ray  house. 
And  frighted  thence  noble  society : 
Like  those,  which  sick  o'  th'  palsy,  and  retain 
Ill-scenting  foxes  'bout  them,"  are  still  shunned  4° 

By  those  of  choicer  nostrils.    What  do  you  call  this  house  ? 
Is  this  your  palace  ?  did  not  the  judge  style  it 
A  house  of  penitent  whores  ?   who  sent  me  to  it  ? 
Who  hath  the  honour  to  advance  Vittoria 
To  this  incontinent  college  ?  is't  not  you  ? 
Is't  not  your  high  preferment  ?  go,  go,  brag 
How  many  ladies  you  have  undone  like  me. 
Fare  you  well,  sir ;  let  me  hear  no  more  of  you  ! 
I  had  a  limb  corrupted  to  an  ulcer, 

But  I  have  cut  it  off;  and  now  I'll  go  5° 

W^eeping  to  heaven  on  crutches,     For  your  gifts, 
I  will  return  them  all,  and  I  do  wish 
That  I  could  make  you  full  executor 
To  all  my  sins.     O  that  I  could  toss  myself 
Into  a  grave  as  quickly  !  for  all  thou  art  worth 
I'll  not  shed  one  tear  more  —  I'll  burst  first. 

[She  throws  herself  upon  a  bed. 

Brack.   I  have  drunk  Lethe  :  Vittoria  ! 
My  dearest  happiness  !     Vittoria  ! 
What  do  you  ail,  my  love  ?  why  do  you  weep  ? 

Vit.    Yes,  I  now  weep  poniards,  do  you  see?  60 

Brack.   Are  not  those  matchless  eyes  mine  ? 

Vit.  I  had  rather 

They  were  not  matchless. 

Brack.  Is  not  this  lip  mine  ? 


92  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

Vit.   Yes ;   thus  to  bite  it  oflf,  rather  than  give  it  thee. 

Flam.   Turn  to  my  lord,  good  sister. 

Vit.  Hence,  you  pander  ! 

Flam.   Pander  !  am  I  the  author  of  your  sin  ? 

Vit.   Yes ;  he's  a  base  thief  that  a  thief  lets  in. 

Flam.   We're  blown  up,  my  lord. 

Brack.  Wilt  thou  hear  me  ? 

Once  to  be  jealous  of  thee,  is  t'express 
That  I  will  love  thee  everlastingly. 
And  never  more  be  jealous. 

_Sit.  O  thou  fool,  •^,  70 

\  Whose  greatness  hath  by  much  o'ergrown  thy  wit ! 
What  dar'st  thou  do,  that  I  not  dare  to  suffer, 
Excepting  to  be  still  thy  whore  ?  for  that. 
In  the  sea's  bottom  sooner  thou  shaft  make 
A  bonfire. 

Flam.       O,  no  oaths,  for  God's  sake  ! 

Brack.    Will  you  hear  me  ? 

Vit.  Never. 

Flam.   What  a  damned  impostume  is  a  woman's  will! 
Can  nothing  break  it  ?     Fie,  fie,  my  lord. 
Women  are  caught  as  you  take  tortoises. 
She  must  be  turned  on  her  back.  —  [Aside.]  Sister,  by 
this  hand  80 

I  am  on  your  side  —  Come,  come,  you  have  wronged  her: 
What  a  strange  credulous  man  were  you,  my  lord, 
To  think  the  duke  of  Florence  would  love  her  ! 
Will  any  mercer  take  another's  ware 
When  once  'tis  tpwsed  and  sullied  ?  —  And  yet,  sister. 
How  scurvily  this  forwardness  becomes  you  ! 
Young  leverets  stand  not  long,  and  women's  anger 
Should,  like  their  flight,  procure  a  little  sport ; 
A  full  cry  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
And  then  be  put  to  th'  dead  quat. 

Brack.  Shall  these  eyes,     9° 

Which  have  so  long  time  dwelt  upon  your  face, 
Be  now  put  out  ? 


SCENE  II]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  93 

Flam.  No  cruel  landlady  i'  th'  world, 

Which  lends  forth  groats  to  broom-men,  and  takes  use 
for  them,  ''' 

Would  do't. 

Hand  her,  my  lord,  and  kiss  her :  be  not  like 
A  ferret,  to  let  go  your  hold  with  blowing. 

Brack.   Let  us  renew  right  hands. 

Vit.  Hence ! 

Brack.   Never  shall  rage,  or  the  forgetful  wine, 
Make  me  commit  like  fault. 

Flam.   Now  you  are  i'  th'  way  on't,  follow't  hard.    100 

Brack.   Be  thou  at  peace  with  me,  let  all  the  world 
Threaten  the  .'innon. 

JFlam.  Mark  his  penitence ; 

/  Best  natures  do  commit  the  grossest  faults, 
L-When  they're  given  o'er  to  jealousy,  as  best_wine, 
Dying,  makes  strongest  vinegar.     I'll  tell  you : 
The  sea's  more  rough  and  raging  than  calm  rivers, 
But  not  so  sweet,  nor  wholesome.     A  quiet  woman 
Is  a  still  water  under  a  great  bridge ; 
A  man  may  shoot  her  safely. 

Vit.   O  ye  dissembling  men  ! 

Flam.  We  sucked  that,  sister,  no 

'.From  women's  breasts,  in  our  first  infancy. 
L—^it.   To  add  misery  to  misery  ! 

Brack.  Sweetest ! 

Vit.   Am  I  not  low  enough  ? 
Aye,  aye,  your  good  heart  gathers  like  a  snowball, 
Now  your  affection's  cold. 

Flam.  Ud'sfoot,  it  shall  melt 

To  a  heart  again,  or  all  the  wine  in  Rome 
Shall  run  o'  th'  lees  for't. 

Vit.  Your  dog  or  hawk  should  be  rewarded  better 
Than  I  have  been.     I'll  speak  not  one  word  more. 

Flam.   Stop  her  mouth  with  a  sweet  kiss,  my  lord.     So, 
Now  the  tide's  turned,  the  vessel's  come  about.  121 

He's  a  sweet  armful.     O,  we  curl-haired  men 


94  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

Are  still  most  kind  to  women  !     This  is  well. 

Brack.   That  you  should  chide  thus  ! 

Flam.  O,  sir,  your  little  chimneys 

Do  ever  cast  most  smoke  !     I  sweat  for  you. 
Couple  together  with  as  deep  a  silence, 
As  did  thejGrecians  in  their  wooden  horse. 
My  lord,/'supply  your  promises  with  deedsj] 
You  know  that  painted  meat  no  hunger  feeds. 

Brack.   Stay,  ingrat^iful  Rome  — 

Flam.  Rome  !  it  deserves    13° 

To  be  called  Barbary,  for  our  villainous  usage. 

Brack.   Soft;  the   same   projeci   which   the   duke   of 
Florence,  '    -»iV. . 

(Whether  in  love  or  guUery  I  know  not), 
Laid  down  for  her  escape,  will  I  pursue. 

Flam.   And  no  time  fitter  than  this  night,  my  lord. 
The  Pope  being  dead,  and  all  the  cardinals  entered 
The  conclave  for  Ih'  electing  a  new  Pope ; 
The  city  in  a  great  confusion ; 
We  may  attire  her  in  a  page's  suit. 

Lay  her  post-horse,  take  shipping,  and  amain  140 

For  Padua. 

Brack.   I'll  instantly  steal  forth  the  prince  Giovanni, 
And  make  for  Padua.     You  two  with  your  old  mother, 
And  young  Marcello  that  attends  on  Florence, 
If  you  can  work  him  to  it,  follow  me : 
I  will  advance  you  all ;  for  you,  Vittoria, 
Think  of  a  duchess'  title. 

Flam.  Lo  you,  sister !  147 

Stay,  my  lord;  I'll  tell  you  a  tale.  The  crocodile, 
which  lives  in  the  river  Nilus,  hath  a  worm  breeds  i'  th' 
teeth  oft,  which  puts  it  to  extreme  anguish:  a  little 
bird,  no  bigger  than  -a  wren,  is  barber-surgeon  to  this 
crocodile ;  flies  into  the  jaws  oft,  picks  out  the  worm, 
and  brings  present  remedy.  The  fish,  glad  of  ease,  but 
ingrateful  to  her  that  did  it,  that  the  bird  may  not  talk 
largely  of  her  abroad  for  non-payment,  close  th  her  chaps. 


SCENE  III]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  95 

intending  to  swallow  her,  and  so  put  her  to  perpetual 
silence.  But  nature,  loathing  such  ingratitude,  hath 
armed  this  bird  with  a  quill  or  prick  on  the  head,,  top 
o'  Ih'  which  wounds  the  crocodile  i'  th'  mouth,  forceth 
her  open  her  bloody  prison,  and  away  flics  the  pretty 
tooth-picker  from  her  cruel  patient.  161 

Brack.    Your  application  is,  I  have  not  rewarded 
The  service  you  have  done  me. 

Flam.  No,  my  lord.    j 

You,  sister,  are  the  crocodile:  you  are  blemished  in  your 

fame,  my  lord  cures  it ;  and  though  the  comparison  hold 

not  in  every  particle,  yet  observe,  remember,  what  good 

the  bird  with  the  prick  i'  th'  head  hath  done  you,  and 

scorn  ingratitude. 

[Aside.]  It  may  appear  to  some  ridiculous 

Thus  to  talk  knave  and  madman,  and  sometimes  170 

Come  in  with  a  dried  sentence,  stuffed  with  sage: 

But  this  allows  my  varying  of  shapes ; 

Knaves  do  grow  great  by  being  great  men's  apes. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  III"^ 

Enter  Francisco,  Lodovico,  GAsr.\RO,  aM  six 
Ambassadors 

Fran.   So,  my  lord,  I  commend  your  diligence. 
Guard  well  the  conclave ;  and,  as  the  order  is. 
Let  none  have  conference  with  the  cardinals. 

Lod.   I  shall,  my  lord.     Room  for  the  ambassadors! 

Gasp.   They're  wondrous  brave  to-day :  why  do  they 
wear 
These  several  habits  ? 

Lod.  O,  sir,  they're  knights 

Of  several  orders : 

That  lord  i'  th'  black  cloak,  ^vith  the  silver  cross. 
Is  Knight  of  Rhodes;  the  next.  Knight  of  St.  Michael; 
That,  of  the  Golden  Fleece;  the  Frenchman,  there,        10 


96  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

Knight  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  my  lord  of  Savoy, 

Knight  of  th'  Annunciation ;  the  Englishman 

Is  Knight  of  th'  honoured  Garter,  dedicated 

Unto  their  Saint,  St.  George.     I  could  describe  to  you 

Their  several  institutions,  with  the  laws 

Annexed  to  their  orders ;  but  that  time 

Permits  not  such  discovery. 

Fran.  Where's  count  Lodowick  ? 

Lod.   Here,  my  lord. 

Fran.  'Tis  o'  th'  point  of  dinner  time ; 

Marshal  the  cardinals'  service. 

Lod.  Sir,  I  shall. 

Enter  Servants,  with  several  dishes  covered 

Stand,  let  me  search  your  dish.     Who's  this  for  ?  20 

Servant.   For  my  lord  cardinal  Monticelso. 

Lod.   Whose  this  ? 

Servant.  For  my  lord  cardinal  of  Bourbon. 

Fr.   Amb.   Why  doth  he  search  the  dishes  ?  to  observe 
What  meat  is  dressed? 

Eng.  Amb.  No,  sir,  but  to  prevent 

Lest  any  letters  should  be  conveyed  in. 
To  bribe  or  to  solicit  the  advancement 
Of  any  cardinal.     When  first  they  enter, 
'Tis  lawful  for  the  ambassadors  of  princes 
To  enter  with  them,  and  to  make  their  suit 
For  any  man  their  prince  affecteth  best ;  3° 

But  after,  till  a  general  election, 
No  man  may  speak  with  them. 

Lod.   You  that  attend  on  the  lord  cardinals. 
Open  the  window,  and  receive  their  viands. 

Cardinal    [from  the  window].  You  must  return   the 
service :  the  lord  cardinals 
Are  busied  'bout  electing  of  the  Pope ; 
They  have  given  o'er  scrutiny,  and  are  fallen 
To  admiration." 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  97 

Lod.  Away,  away! 

Fran.  I'll  lay  a  thousand  ducats  you  hear  news 

[Enter  Cardinal  Arragon  on  the  terrace. 
Of  a  Pope  presently.     Hark ;  sure  he's  elected :  40 

Behold,  my  lord  of  Arragon  appears 
On  the  church  battlements. 

Arragon.  Denuntio  vobis  gaudium  magnum:  Reve- 
rendissimus  cardinalis  Lorenzo  de  Montlcelso  electus  est  in 
sedem  apostolicam,  et  elegit  sibi  nomen  Pauliim  Quartum.'^ 

Omnes.    Vivat  sanctus  pater  Paulus  Quartus  I 

Enter  Servant 

Servant.   Vittoria,  my  lord  — 

Fran.  Well,  what  of  her  ? 

Servant.   Is  fled  the  city. 

Fran.  Ha ! 

Servant.  With  duke  Brachiano. 

Fran.   Fled  !  where's  the  prince  Giovanni  ? 

Servant.  Gone  with  his  father. 

Fran.   Let  the  matrona  of  the  convertites  5° 

Be  apprehended.     Fled  ?     O  damnable  !     [Exit  Servant. 
How  fortunate  are  my  wishes  !  why,  t'was  this 
I.only  laboured  :  I  did  send  the  letter 
rX'instruct  him  what  to  do.     Thy  fame,  fond  duke, 
1  first  have  poisoned ;  directed  thee  the  way 
To  marry  a  whore  ;  what  can  be  worse  ?     this  follows : 
The  hand  must  act  to  drown  the  passionate  tongue, 
I  scorn  to  wear  a  sword  and  prate  of  wrong. 

Enter  Monticelso  in  state 

Mont.  Concedimus  vobis  apostolicam  benedictionem, 
et  remissionon  peccatoriim.^  60 

My  lord  reports  Vittoria  Corombona 
Is  stol'n  from  forth  the  house  of  convertites 
By  Brachiano,  and  they're  lied  the  city. 
Now,  though  this  be  the  first  day  of  our  seat, 
We  cannot  better  please  the  divine  power, 


98  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

Than  to  sequester  from  the  holy  church 

These  cursed  persons.     Make  it  therefore  known, 

We  do  denounce  excommunication 

Against  them  both :  all  that  are  theirs  in  Rome 

We  likewise  banish.     Set  on.  [Exeunt. 

Fran.  Come,  dear  Lodovico ;  70 

You  have  ta'en  the  sacrament  to  prosecute 
Th'  intended  murder. 

Lod.  With  all  constancy. 

But,  sir,  I  wonder  you'll  engage  yourself 
In  person,  being  a  great  prince. 

Fran.  Divert  me  not. 

Most  of  his  court  are  of  my  faction. 
And  some  are  of  my  council.     Noble  friend, 
Our  danger  shall  be  like  in  this  design : 
Give  leave  part  of  the  glory  may  be  mine. 

[Exit  Francisco. 

Enter  Monticelso 

Mont.   Why  did  the  duke  of  Florence  with  such  care 
Labour  your  pardon  ?  say.  80 

Lod.   Italian  beggars  will  resolve  you  that, 
Who,  begging  of  an  alms,  bid  those  they  beg  of 
Do  good  for  their  own  sakes ;  or't  may  be, 
He  spreads  his  bounty  with  a  sowing  hand, 
Like  kings,  who  many  times  give  out  of  measure, 
Not  for  desert  so  much,  as  for  their  pleasure. 

Mont.   I  know  you're  cunning.     Come,    what    devil 
was  that 
That  you  were  raising  ? 

Lod.  Devil,  my  lord  ? 

Mont.  I  ask  you, 

How  doth  the  duke  employ  you,  that  his  bonnet 
Fell  with  such  compliment  unto  his  knee,  9° 

When  he  departed  from  you  ? 

Lod.  Why,  my  lord, 

He  told  me  of  a  resty  Barbary  horse 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  99 

Which  he  would  fain  have  brought  to  the  career, 
The  sault,  and  the  ring  gaUiard : "  now,  my  lord, 
I  ha\^e  a  rare  French  rider. 

Mont.  Take  you  heed, 

Lest  the  jade  break  your  neck.     Uo  you  put  me  off 
With  your  wild  horse-tricks  ?     Sirrah,  you  do  lie. 
O,  thou'rt  a  foul  black  cloud,  and  thou  dost  threat 
A  violent  storm  ! 

Lod.  Storms  are  i'  th'  air,  my  lord ; 

I  am  too  low  to  storm. 

Mont.  Wretched  creature !  100 

I  know  that  thou  art  fashioned  for  all  ill, 
Like  dogs,  that  once  get  blood,  they'll  ever  kill. 
About  some  murder,  was't  not  ? 

Lod.  I'll  not  tell  you : 

And  yet  I  care  not  greatly  if  I  do ; 
Marry,  with  this  preparation.     Holy  father, 
I  come  not  to  you  as  an  intelligencer. 
But  as  a  penitent  sinner :  what  I  utter 
Is  in  confession  merely ;  which,  you  know, 
Must  never  be  revealed. 

Mont.  You  have  o'erta'en  me. 

Lod.    Sir,  I  did  love  Brachiano's  duchess  dearl)^^  no 
Or  rather  I  pursued  her  with  hot  lust,  \ 

Though  she  ne'er  knew  on't.     She  was  poisoned ; 

Upon  my  soul  she  was  :  for  which  I  have  sworn, / 

T'  avenge  her  murder. 

Mont.  To  the  duke  of  Florence  ? 

Lod.   To  him  I  have. 

Mont.  Miserable  creature  ! 

If  thou  persist  in  this,  'tis  damnable. 
Dost  thou  imagine,  thou  canst  slide  on  blood, 
And  not  be  tainted  with  a  shameful  fall  ? 
Or,  like  the  black  and  melancholic  yew-tree. 
Dost  think  to  root  thyself  in  dead  men's  graves,  120 

And  yet  to  prosper  ?     Instruction  to  thee 
Comes  like  sweet  showers  to  o'er-hardened  ground ; 


lOO  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  iv 

They  wet,  but  pierce  not  deep.     And  so  I  leave  thee, 

With  all  the  furies  hanging  'bout  thy  neck. 

Till  by  thy  penitence  thou  remove  this  evil. 

In  conjuring  from  thy  breast  that  cruel  devil.  [Exit. 

Lod.   I'll  give  it  o'er ;  he  says  'tis  damnable : 
Besides  I  did  expect  his  suffrage, 
By  reason  of  Camillo's  death. 

Enter  Servant  and  Francisco 

Fran.   Do  you  know  that  count  ? 

Servant.  Yes,  my  lord.      130 

Fran.    Bear  him  these  thousand  ducats  to  his  lodging ; 
Tell  him  the  Pope  hath  sent  them.     Happily 
That  will  confirm  more  than  all  the  rest.  [Exit. 

Servant.   Sir  — 

Lod.  To  me,  sir  ? 

Servant.   His    Holiness    hath    sent    you    a    thousand 
crowns, 
And  wills  you,  if  you  travel,  to  make  him 
Your  patron  for  intelligence. 

Lod.   His  creature  ever  to  be  commanded.  — 

[Exit  Servant. 
Why  now  'tis  come  about.     He  railed  upon  me ; 
And  yet  these  crowns  were  told  out,  and  laid  ready,     140 
Before  he  knew  my  voyage.     O  the  art. 
The  modest  form  of  greatness  !  that  do  sit. 
Like  brides  at  wedding-dinners,  with  their  looks  turned 
From  the  least  wanton  jest,  their  puling  stomach 
Sick  of  the  modesty,  when  their  thoughts  are  loose, 
Even  acting  of  those  hot  and  lustful  sports 
Are  to  ensue  about  midnight :  such  his  cunning  ! 
He  sounds  my  depth  thus  with  a  golden  plummet. 
I  am  doubly  armed  now.     Now  to  th'  act  of  blood. 
There's  but  three  furies  found  in  spacious  hell,  150 

But  in  a  great  man's  breast  three  thousand  dwell.     [Exit. 


ACT  THE   FIFTH 

Scene  I" 

A  passage  over  the  stage  of  Brachiano,  Flamineo,  Mar- 
cello,    HORTENSIO,    VlTTORIA,    CORNELLS,    ZaNCHE, 

and  others:  Flamineo  and  Hortensio  remain 

Flam.  In  all  the  weary  minutes  of  my  life, 
Day  ne'er  broke  up  till  now.  This  marriage 
Confirms  me  happy. 

Hort.  'Tis  a  good  assurance. 

Saw  you  not  yet  the  Moor  that's  come  to  court  ? 

Flam.   Yes,  and  conferred  with  him  i'  th'  duke's  closet. 
I  have  not  seen  a  goodlier  personage, 
Nor  ever  talked  with  man  better  experienced 
In  state  affairs,  or  rudiments  of  war. 
He  hath,  by  report,  served  the  Venetian 
In  Candy  these  twice  seven  years,  and  been  chief  lo 

In  many  a  bold  design. 

Hort.  What  are  those  two 

That  bear  him  company  ? 

Flam.  Two  noblemen  of  Hungary,  that,  living  in  the 
emperor's  service  as  commanders,  eight  years  since,  con- 
trary to  the  expectation  of  all  the  court,  entered  into  re- 
ligion, into  the  strict  order  of  Capuchins ;  but,  being  not 
well  settled  in  their  undertaking,  they  left  their  order, 
and  returned  to  court ;  for  which,  being  after  troubled 
in  conscience,  they  vowed  their  service  against  the  ene- 
mies of  Christ,  went  to  Malta,  were  there  knighted,  and 
in  their  return  back,  at  this  great  solemnity,  they  are 
resolved  for  ever  to  forsake  the  world,  and  settle  them- 
selves here  in  a  house  of  Capuchins  in  Padua.  23 

Hort.    'Tis  strange. 


102  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Flam.  One  thing  makes  it  so :  they  have  vowed  for 
ever  to  wear,  next  their  bare  bodies,  those  coats  of  mail 
they  served  in. 

Hort.   Hard  penance  !     Is  the  Moor  a  Christian  ? 

Flam.   He  is. 

Hort.   Why  proffers  he  his  service  to  our  duke  ?  3° 

Flam.   Because  he  understands  there's    Uke    to  grow 
Some  wars  between  us  and  the  duke  of  Florence, 
In  which  he  hopes  employment. 
I  never  saw  one  in  a  stern  bold  look 
Wear  more  command,  nor  in  a  lofty  phrase 
Express  more  knowing,  or  more  deep  contempt 
Of  our  slight  airy  courtiers.     He  talks 
As  if  he  had  travelled  all  the  princes'  courts 
Of  Christendom :  in  all  things  strives  t'express. 
That  all,  that  should  dispute  with  him,  may  know,       40 
Glories,  hke  glow-worms,  afar-  off  shine  bright. 
But  looked  to  near,  have  neither  heat  nor  light. 
The  duke! 

Enter  Brachiano,  Francisco  disguised  like  Mulinas- 
SAR,  LoDOVico  and  Gasparo,  disguised  as  Carlo  and 
Pettro,  bearing  their  swords,  their  helmets  down, 
Antonelli,  Farnese. 

Brach.   You  are  nobly  welcome.    We  have  heard  at  full 
Your  honourable  service  'gainst  the  Turk. 
To  you,  brave  MuUnassar,  we  assign 
A  competent  pension :  and  are  inly  sorry, 
The  vows  of  those  two  worthy  gentlemen 
Make  them  incapable  of  our  proffered  bounty. 
Your  wish  is,  you  may  leave  your  warlike  swords  5° 

For  monuments  in  our  chapel :  I  accept  it. 
As  a  great  honour  done  me,  and  must  crave 
Your  leave  to  furnish  out  our  duchess'  revels." 
Only  one  thing,  at  the  last  vanity 
You  e'er  shall  view,  deny  me  not  to  stay 


SCENE  I]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  103 

To  see  a  barriers  prepared  to-night : 

You  shall  have  private  standings.     It  hath  pleased 

The  great  ambassadors  of  several  princes, 

In  their  return  from  Rome  to  their  own  countries, 

To  grace  our  marriage,  and  to  honour  me  60 

With  such  a  kind  of  sport. 

Fran.  I  shall  persuade  them 

To  stay,  my  lord. 

Brack.  Set  on  there  to  the  presence. 

[Exeunt  Brachiano,  Flamineo,  and  Hortensio. 

Lod.   Noble  my  lord,  most  fortunately  welcome ; 

[The  Conspirators  here  embrace. 
You  have  our  vows,  sealed  with  the  sacrament, 
To  second  your  attempts. 

Gas.  And  all  things  ready ; 

He  could  not  have  invented  his  own  ruin 
(Had  he  despaired)  with  more  propriety. 

Lod.   You  would  not  take  my  way. 

Fran.  'Tis  better  ordered. 

Lod.   T'  have  poisoned  his  prayer-book,  or  a  pair  of 
beads,° 
The  pummel  of  his  saddle,  his  looking-glass,  7° 

Or  th'  handle  of  his  racket,  —  O  that,  that ! 
That  while  he  had  been  bandying  at  tennis, 
He  might  have  sworn  himself  to  hell,  and  strook 
His  soul  into  the  hazard  !     O  my  lord, 
I  would  have  our  plot  be  ingenious. 
And  have  it  hereafter  recorded  for  example, 
Rather  than  borrow  example. 

Fran.  There's  no  way 

More  speeding  than  this  thought  on. 

Lod.  On,  then. 

Fran.   And  yet  methinks  that  this  revenge  is  poor,| 
Because  it  steals  upon  him  like  a  thief :  -*>- 

To  have  ta'en  him  by  the  casque  in  a  pitched  field, 
Led  him  to  Florence  — 

Lod.  It  had  been  rare :  and  there 


104  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Have  crowned  him  with  a  wreath  of  stinking  garlic ; 
T'  have  shown  the  sharpness  of  his  government, 
And  rankness  of  his  lust.     Flamineo  comes. 

[Exeunt  Lodovico,  Antonelli,  and  Gasparo. 

Enter  Flamineo,  Marcello,  and  Zanche 

Mar.   Why  doth  this  devil  haunt  you,  say  ? 

Flam.  I  know  not : 

For  by  this  light,  I  do  not  conjure  for  her. 
'Tis  not  so  great  a  cunning  as  men  think, 
To  raise  the  devil ;  for  here's  one  up  already ; 
The  greatest  cunning  were  to  lay  him  down.  90 

Mar.    She  is  your-  shame. 

Flam.  •  I  prithee  pardon  her. 

In  faith,  you  see,  women  are  like  to  burs. 
Where  their  affection  throws  them,  there  they'll  stick. 

Zan.   That  is  my  countryman,"  a  goodly  person ; 
When  he's  at  leisure,  I'll  discourse  with  him 
In  our  own  language. 

Flam.  I  beseech  you  do.   [Exit  Zanche. 

How  is't,  brave  soldier  ?     O  that  I  had  seen 
Some  of  your  iron  days  !     I  pray  relate 
Some  of  your  service  to  us. 

Fran.  'Tis  a  ridiculous  thing  for  a  man  to  be  his  own 
chronicle:  I  did  never  wash  my  mouth  with  mine  own 
praise,  for  fear  of  getting  a  stinldng  breath.  102 

Mar.  You're  too  stoical.  The  duke  will  expect  other 
discourse  from  you. 

Fran.  I  shall  never  flatter  him:  I  have  studied  man 
[too  much  to  do  that.  What  difference  is  between  the 
Vdiike  and  I  ?  no  more  than  between  two  bricks,  all  made 
of  one  clay :  only't  may  be  one  is  placed  on  the  top  of  a 
turret,  the  other  in  the  bottom  of  a  well,  by  mere  chance. 
If  I  were  placed  as  high  as  the  duke,  I  should  stick  as 
fast,  make  as  fair  a  show,  and  bear  out  weather  equally. 

Flam.  [Aside.]  If  this  soldier  had  a  patent  to  beg  in 
churches,  then  he  would  tell  them  stories.  113 


SCENE  i]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  10$ 

Mar.   I  have  been  a  soldier,  too. 

Fran.   How  have  you  thrived  ? 

Mar.   Faith,  poorly. 

Fran.  That's  the  misery  of  peace :  only  outsides  are 
then  respected.  As  ships  seem  very  great  upon  the 
river,  which  show  very  little  upon  the  seas,  so  some  men 
i'  th'  court  seem  Colossuses  in  a  chamber,  who,  if  they 
came  into  the  field,  would  appear  pitiful  pigmies.  121 

Flam.  Give  me  a  fair  room  yet  hung  with  arras,  and 
some  great  cardinal  to  lug  me  by  th'  ears,  as  his  endeared 
minion. 

Fran.  And  thou  mayest  do  the  devil  knows  what 
villainy. 

Flam.   And  safely. 

Fran.  Right :  you  shall  see  in  the  country,  in  harvest- 
time,  pigeons,  though  they  destroy  never  so  much  corn, 
the  farmer  dare  not  present  the  fowling-piece  to  them : 
why  ?  because  they  belong  to  the  lord  of  the  manor ; 
whilst  your  poor  sparrows,  that  belong  to  the  lord  of 
heaven,  they  go  to  the  pot  for't.  133 

Flam.  I  will  now  give  you  some  politic  instructions. 
The  duke  says  he  will  give  you  pension ;  that's  but 
bare  promise ;  get  it  under  his  hand.  For  I  have 
known  men  that  have  come  from  serving  against  the 
Turk,  for  three  or  four  months  they  have  had  pension 
to  buy  them  new  wooden  legs,  and  fresh  plasters ;  but 
after,  'twas  not  to  be  had.  And  this  miserable  courtesy 
shows  as  if  a  tormentor  should  give  hot  cordial  drinks 
to  one  three  quarters  dead  o'  th'  rack,  only  to  fetch  the 
miserable  soul  again  to  endure  more  dog-days.  143 

[Exit  Francisco  de  Medicis. 

Enter  Hortensio,  a  Young  Lord,  Zanche, 
and  two  more 

How  now,  gallants  ?  what,  are  they  ready  for  the  barriers  ? 
Young  Lord.   Yes :    the   lords   are   putting   on   their 
armour. 


I06  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Hort.   What's  he? 

Flam.  A  new  upstart;  one  that  swears  like  a  fal- 
coner, and  will  lie  in  the  duke's  ear  day  by  day,  like  a 
maker  of  almanacs ;  and  yet  I  knew  him,  since  he 
came  to  th'  court,  smell  worse  of  sweat  than  an  under 
tennis-court  keeper.  152 

Hort.   Look  you,  yonder's  your  sweet  mistress. 

Flam.  Thou  art  my  sworn  brother :  I'll  tell  thee,  I  do 
love  that  Moor,  that  witch,  very  constrainedly.  She 
knows  some  of  my  villainy.  I  do  love  her  just  as  a  man 
holds  a  wolf  by  the  ears;  but  for  fear  of  her  turning 
upon  me,  and  pulling  out  my  throat,  I  would  let  her 
go  to  the  devil. 

Hort.   I  hear  she  claims  marriage  of  thee.  160 

Flam.  'Faith,  I  made  to  her  some  such  dark  promise ; 
and,  in  seeking  to  fly  from't,  I  run  on,  like  a  frighted 
dog  with  a  bottle  at's  tail,  that  fain  would  bite  it  off,  and 
yet  dares  not  look  behind  him.     Now,  my  precious  gipsy. 

Zan.    Aye,  your  love  to  me  rather  cools  than  heats. 

Flam.  Marry,  I  am  the  sounder  lover ;  we  have  many 
wenches  about  the  town  heat  toe  fast, 

Hort.  What  do  you  think  of  these  perfumed  gallants, 
then? 

Flam.  Their  satin  cannot  save  them :  I  am  confident 
They  have  a  certain  spice  of  the  disease  ;  171 

For  they  that  sleep  with  dogs  shall  rise  with  fleas. 

Zan.  Believe  it,  a  Uttle  painting  and  gay  clothes 
make  you  love  me. 

Flam.  How !  love  a  lady  for  painting  or  gay  apparel  ? 
I'll  unkennel  one  example  more  for  thee,  ^sop  had  a 
foolish  dog  that  let  go  the  flesh  to  catch  the  shadow ;  I 
would  have  courtiers  be  better  divers. 

Zan.   You  remember  your  oaths  ?  179 

Flam.  Lovers'  oaths  are  like  mariners'  prayers, 
uttered  in  extremity ;  but  when  the  tempest  is  o'er,  and 
that  the  vessel  leaves  tumbling,  they  fall  from  pro- 
testing to  drinking."    And  yet,  amongst  gentlemen,  pro- 


SCENK  I]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  10/ 

testing  and  drinking  go  together,  and  agree  as  well  as 
shoemakers  and  Westphalia  bacon :  they  are  both 
drawers  on ;  for  drink  draws  on  protestation,  and  pro- 
testation draws  on  more  drink.  Is  not  this  discourse 
better  now  than  the  morality  of  your  sunburnt  gentle- 
man? 

Enter  Cornelia 

Cor.   Is  this  your  perch,  you  haggard  ?  fly  to  th'  stews. 

[Striking  Zanche. 

Flam.    You  should  be  clapped  by  th'  heels "  now :  strike 
i'  th'  court !  [Exit  Cornelia.     191 

Zan.   She's  good  for  nothing,  but  to  make  her  maids 
Catch  cold  a-nights :  they  dare  not  use  a  bedstaff, 
For  fear  of  her  light  fingers. 

Mar.  You're  a  strumpet. 

An  impudent  one. 

Flam.  Why  do  you  kick  her,  say  ? 

Do  you  think  that  she's  like  a  walnut-tree  ? 
Must  she  be  cudgelled  ere  she  bear  good  fruit  ? 

Mar.   She  brags  that  you  shall  marry  her. 

Flam.  What  then  ? 

Mar.   I  had  rather  she  were  pitched  upon  a  stake. 
In  some  new-seeded  garden,  to  affright  200 

Her  fellow  crows  thence. 

Flam.  You're  a  boy,  a  fool. 

Be  guardian  to  your  hound ;  I  am  of  age. 

Mar.   If  I  take  her  near  you,  I'll  cut  her  throat. 

Flam.   With  a  fan  of  feathers  ? 

Mar.  And,  for  you,  I'll  whip 

This  folly  from  you. 

Flam.  Are  you  choleric  ? 

I'll  purge't  with  rhubarb. 

Hort.  O,  your  brother  ! 

Flam.  Hang  him, 

He  wrongs  me  most,  that  ought  t'offend  me  least : 
I  I  do  suspect  my  mother  played  foul  play,     1 


108  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  v 

,When  she  conceived  thee/^ 

Mar.  Now,  by  all  my  hopes, 

Like  the  two  slaughtered  sons  of  CEdipus,  210 

The  very  flames  of  our  affection 

Shall  turn  two  ways.     Those  words  I'll  make  thee  answer 
With  thy  heart  blood. 

Flam.  Do,  like  the  geese  in  the  progress ; 

You  know  where  you  shall  find  me. 

Mar.  Very  good.  [Exit  Flamineo. 

And  thou  be'st  a  noble  friend,  bear  him  my  sword. 
And  bid  him  fit  the  length  on't. 

Young  Lord.  Sir,  I  shall. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Zanche. 

Zan.   He  comes.     Hence  petty  thought  of  my  disgrace ! 

Enter  Francisco 

I  ne'er  loved  my  complexion  till  now, 

'Cause  I  may  boldly  say,  without  a  blush, 

I  love  you.  22° 

Fran.  Your  love  is  untimely  sown ;  there's  a  spring 
at  Michaelmas,  but  'tis  but  a  faint  one:  I  am  sunk  in 
years,  and- 1  have  vowed  never  to  marry. 

Zan.  Alas !  poor  maids  get  more  lovers  than  hus- 
bands :  yet  you  may  mistake  my  wealth.  For,  as  when 
ambassadors  are  sent  to  congratulate  princes,  there's 
commonly  sent  along  with  them  a  rich  present,  so  that, 
though  the  prince  like  not  the  ambassador's  person,  nor 
words,  yet  he  likes  well  of  the  presentment ;  so  I  may 
come  to  you  in  the  same  manner,  and  be  better  loved 
for  my  dowry  than  my  virtue.  231 

Fran.   I'll  think  on  the  motion. 

Zan.     Do ;  I'll  now  detain  you  no  longer.     At  your 
better  leisure,  I'll  tell  you  things  shall  startle  your  blood : 
Nor  blame  me  that  this  passion  I  reveal ; 
Lovers  die  inward  that  their  flames  conceal.  [Exit. 

Fran.   Of  all  intelligence  this  may  prove  the  best : 
Sure  I  shall  draw  strange  fowl  from  this  foul  nest.  [Exit. 


SCENK  II]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  109 

Scene  11° 
Enter  Marcello  and  Cornelia    • 

Cor.   I  hear  a  whispering  all  about  the  court, 
You  arc  to  fight :  who  is  your  opposite  ? 
What  is  the  quarrel  ? 

Mar.  'Tis  an  idle  rumour. 

Cor.   Will  you  dissemble  ?  sure  you  do  not  well 
To  fright  me  thus :  you  never  look  thus  pale, 
But  when  you  are  most  angry.     I  do  charge  you, 
Upon  my  blessing  —  nay,  I'll  call  the  duke, 
And  he  shall  school  you. 

Mar.  PubUsh  not  a  fear, 

Which  would  convert  to  laughter :   'tis  not  so. 
Was  not  this  crucifix  my  father's  ?  " 

Cor.  Yes.  10 

Mar.   I  have  heard  you  say,  giving  my  brother  suck, 
He  took  the  crucifix  between  his  hands, 

Enter  Flamineo 

And  broke  a  limb  off. 

Cor.  Yes,  but  'tis  mended. 

Flam.   I  have  brought  your  weapon  back. 

[Flamineo  runs  Marcello  through. 

Cor.  Ha  !     0  my  horror  ! 

Mar.   You  have  brought  it  home,  indeed. 

Cor.  Help  !     0,  he's  murdered  ! 

Flam.   Do  you  turn  your  gall  up  ?     I'll  to  sanctuary. 
And  send  a  surgeon  to  you.  [Exit. 

Enter  Lodovico,  Hortensio,  and  Gasparo 

Hort.  How  !  o'  th'  ground  ! 

Mar.   O  mother,  now  remember  what  I  told 
Of  breaking  of  the  crucifix  !     Farewell. 


no  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  v 

There  are  some  sins,  which  heaven  doth  duly  punish 

In  a  whole  fainily.     This  it  is  to  rise  21 

By  all  dishonest  means  !    Let  all  men  know, 

That  tree  shall  long  time  keep  a  steady  foot. 

Whose  branches  spread  no  wider  than  the  root.     [Dies. 

Cor.   O  my  perpetual  sorrow  ! 

Hori.  Virtuous  Marcello ! 

He's  dead.     Pray  leave  him,  lady :  come,  you  shall. 

Cor.  Alas  !  he  is  not  dead ;  he's  in  a  trance.  Why 
here's  nobody  shall  get  anything  by  his  death.  Let  me 
call  him  again,  for  God's  sake  ! 

Lod.   I  would  you  were  deceived.  30 

Cor.  O,  you  abuse  me,  you  abuse  me,  you  abuse  me  ! 
how  many  have  gone  away  thus,  for  lack  of  'tendance  ! 
rear  up's  head,  rear  up's  head  !  his  bleeding  inward  will 
kill  him. 

Hori.   You  see  he  is  departed. 

Cor.  Let  me  come  to  him ;  give  me  him  as  he  is ;  if 
he  be  turned  to  earth,  let  me  but  give  him  one  hearty  kiss, 
and  you  shall  put  us  both  into  one  coffin.  Fetch  a 
looking-glass :  see  if  his  breath  will  not  stain  it ;  or  pull 
out  some  feathers  from  my  pillow,  and  lay  them  to  his 
lips.     Will  you  lose  him  for  a  Uttle  painstaking  ?  41 

Hort.   Your  kindest  office  is  to  pray  for  him. 

Cor.  Alas !  I  would  not  pray  for  him  yet.  He  may 
live  to  lay  me  i'  th'  ground,  and  pray  for  me,  if  you'll 
let  me  come  to  him. 

Enter  BRAcmANO,  all  armed,  save  the  heaver,  with 
Flamineo,  Francisco,  and  Page 

Brack.   Was  this  your  handiwork  ? 
Flam.   It  was  my  misfortune. 

Cor.   He  lies,  he  lies  !  he  did  not  kill  him:  these  have 
killed  him,  that  would  not  let  him  be  better  looked  to. 
Brack.   Have  comfort,  my  grieved  mother.  50 

Cor.   O  you  screech-owl ! 


SCENK  u]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  1 1 1 

riort.   Forbear,  good  madam. 

Cor.    Let  me  go,  let  me  go. 

[She  runs  to  Flamineo  with  her  knife  drawn, 
and  coming  to  him  lets  it  fall. 
The  God  of  Heaven  forgive  thee  !     Dost  not  wonder 
I  pray  for  thee  ?     I'll  tell  thee  what's  the  reason 
I  have  scarce  breath  to  number  twenty  minutes ; 
I'd  not  spend  that  in  cursing.     Fare  thee  well : 
Half  of  thyself  lies  there ;  and  may'st  thou  live 
To  fill  an  hour-glass  with  his  mouldered  ashes. 
To  tell  how  thou  should'st  spend  the  time  to  come        60 
In  blessed  repentance ! 

Brach.  Mother,  pray  tell  me 

How  came  he  by  his  death  ?   what  was  the  quarrel  ? 

Cor.   Indeed,  my  younger  boy  presumed  too  much 
Upon  his  manhood,  gave  him  bitter  words. 
Drew  his  sword  first ;  and  so,  I  know  not  how, 
For  I  was  out  of  my  wits,  he  fell  with's  head 
Just  in  my  bosom. 

Page.  This  is  not  true,  madam. 

Cor.   I  pray  thee,  peace. 
One  arrow's  grazed  "  already ;  it  were  vain 
T'  lose  this,  for  that  will  ne'er  be  found  again.  70 

Brach.   Go,  bear  the  body  to  Cornelia's  lodging : 
And  we  command  that  none  acquaint  our  duchess 
With  this  sad  accident.     For  you,  Flaminco, 
Hark  you,  I  will  not  grant  your  pardon. 

Flam.  No  ? 

Brach.   Only  a  lease  of  your  life ;  and  that  shall  last 
But  for  one  day :  thou  shalt  be  forced  each  evening 
To  renew  it,  or  be  hanged. 

Flam.  At  your  pleasure. 

[LoDOVico  sprinkles  Brachiano's  beaver  with  a  poison. 
Your  will  is  law  now,  I'll  not  meddle  with  it. 

Brach.   You  once  did  brave  me  in  your  sister's  lodging  : 
I'll  now  keep  you  in  awe  for't.     Where's  our  beaver.     So 

Fran.  [Aside]  He  calls  for  his  destruction.  Noble  youth. 


112  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

I  pity  thy  sad  fate  !     Now  to  the  barriers. 

This  shall  his  passage  to  the  black  lake  further ; 

The  last  good  deed  he  did,  he  pardoned  murder.    [Exeunt. 

Scene  III 

Charges  and  shouts.     They  fight  at  barriers;  first  single 
pairs,  then  three  to  three 

Enter  Brachiano  and  Flamineo,  with  others 

Brach.   An  armourer  !  ud's  death,  an  armourer  ! 

Flam.   Armourer  !  where's  the  armourer  ? 

Brach.   Tear  off  my  beaver. 

Flam.  Are  you  hurt,  my  lord  ? 

Brach.   O,  my  brain's  on  fire  ! 

Enter  Armourer 

The  helmet  is  poisoned. 

Armourer.  My  lord,  upon  my  soul  — 

Brach.   Away  with  him  to  torture. 
There  are  some  great  ones  that  have  hand  in  this, 
And  near  about  me. 

Enter  Vittoria  Corombona 

Vit.  O,  my  loved  lord  !  poisoned  ! 

Flam.   Remove  the  bar.     Here's  unfortunate  revels ! 
Call  the  physicians.      A  plague  upon  you  !  lo 

Enter  two  Physicians 

We  have  too  much  of  your  cunning  here  already : 
I  fear  the  ambassadors  are  likewise  poisoned. 

Brach.   O,  I  am  gone  already  !   the  infection 
FHes  to  the  brain  and  heart.     O  thou  strong  heart ! 
There's  such  a  covenant  'tween  the  world  and  it, 
They're  loath  to  break. 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  113 

Enter  Giovanni 

Giov.  O  my  most  loved  father  ! 

Brack.   Remove  the  boy  away. 
Where's  this  good  woman  ?     Had  I  infinite  worlds, 
They  were  too  little  for  thee :  must  I  leave  thee  ? 
What  say  you,  screech-owls,  is  the  venom  mortal  ?        20 

Phys.   Most  deadly. 

Brack.  Most  corrupted  politic  hangman, 

You  kill  without  book ;  but  your  art  to  save 
Fails  you  as  oft  as  great  men's  needy  friends. 
I  that  have  given  life  to  offending  slaves, 
And  wretched  murderers,  have  I  not  power 
To  lengthen  mine  own  a  twelvemonth  ? 
Do  not  kiss  me,  for  I  shall  poison  thee 
This  unction  is^sent  from  the  great  duke  of  Florence. 

Fran.   Sir,  be  of  comfort. 

Brack.   O  thou  soft  natural  death,  that  art  joint  twin 
To  sweetest  slumber  !  no  rough-bearded  comet  31 

Stares  on  thy  mild  departure ;  the  dull  owl 
Beats  not  against  thy  casement ;   the  hoarse  wolf 
Scents  not  thy  carrion  :  pity  winds  thy  corse, 
Whilst  horror  waits  on  princes. 

Vit.  I  am  lost  for  ever. 

Brack.   How  miserable  a  thing  it  is  to  die 
'Mongst  women  howling  ! 

Enter  Lodovico  and  Gasparo,  as  Capuchins 

What  are  those  ? 
Flam.  Franciscans : 

They  have  brought  the  extreme  unction. 

Brack.   On  pain  of  death,  let  no  man  name  death  to  me : 
It  is  a  word  infinitely  terrible.  40 

Withdraw  into  our  cabinet. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Francisco  and  Flamineo. 
Flam.    To  see  what  solitariness  is  about  dying  princes  ! 


114  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

as  heretofore  they  have  unpeopled  towns,  divorced 
friends,  and  made  great  houses  unhospitable,  so  now, 
0  justice  !  where  are  their  flatterers  now  ?  flatterers  are 
but  the  shadows  of  princes'  bodies ;  the  least  thick  cloud 
makes  them  invisible. 

Fran.   There's  great  moan  made  for  him. 

Flam.  'Faith,  for  some  few  hours  salt-water  will  run 
most  plentifully  in  every  office  o'  th'  court ;  but,  believe  it 
most  of  them  do  but  weep  over  their  stepmothers'  graves. 

Fran.   How  mean  you  ?  52 

Flam.  Why,  they  dissemble;  as  some  men  do  that 
live  within  compass  o'  th'  verge." 

Fran.   Come,  you  have  thrived  well  under  him. 

Flam.  'Faith,  like  a  wolf  in  a  woman's  breast ; "  I  have 
been  fed  with  poultry :  but,  for  money,  understand  me,  I 
had  as  good  a  will  to  cozen  him  as  e'er  an  officer  of 
them  all ;  but  I  had  not  cunning  enough  to  do  it. 

Fran.  What  didst  thou  think  of  him?  'faith,  speak 
freely.  61 

Flam.  He  was  a  kind  of  statesman,  that  would  sooner 
have  reckoned  how  many  cannon-bullets  he  had  dis- 
charged against  a  town,  to  count  his  expense  that  way, 
than  how  many  of  his  valiant  and  deserving  subjects  he 
lost  before  it. 

Fran.   O,  speak  well  of  the  duke  ! 

Flam.  I  have  done.  Wilt  hear  some  of  my  court- 
wisdom  ? 

Enter  Lodovico 

To  reprehend  princes  is  dangerous ;  and  to  over- 
commend  some  of  them  is  palpable  l)dng.  71 

Fran.   How  is  it  with  the  duke  ? 

Lod.  Most  deadly  ill. 

He's  fall'n  into  a  strange  distraction  : 
He  talks  of  battles  and  mono]X)lies, 
Levying  of  taxes ;  and  from  that  descends 
To  the  most  brainsick  language.     His  mind  fastens 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  II5 

On  twenty  several  objects,  which  confound 

Deep  sense  with  folly.     Such  a  fearful  end 

May  teach  some  men  that  bear  too  lofty  crest, 

Though  they  live  happiest  yet  they  die  not  best.  80 

He  hath  conferred  the  whole  state  of  the  dukedom 

Upon  your  sister,  till  the  prince  arrive 

At  mature  age. 

Flam.  There's  some  good  luck  in  that  yet. 

Fran.   See,  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Brachiano,  presented  in  a  bed,  Vittoria, 
and  others 

There's  death  in's  face  already. 
Vit.   O  my  good  lord  ! 

Brack.  Away,  you  have  abused  me  : 

[These  speeches  are  several  kinds  oj  distractions 
and  in  the  action  should  appear  so. 
You  have  conveyed  coin  forth  our  territories. 
Bought  and  sold  offices,  oppressed  the  poor. 
And  I  ne'er  dreamt  on't.     Make  up  your  accounts, 
I'll  now  be  mine  own  steward. 

Flam.  Sir,  have  patience. 

Brack.    Indeed,  I  am  to  blame :  •  90 

For  tlid  you  ever  hear  the  dusky  raven 
Chide  blackness  ?   or  was't  ever  known  the  devil 
Railed  against  cloven  creatures  ? 

Vit.  O  my  lord  ! 

Brack.   Let  me  have  some  quails  to  supper. 
Fla7n.  Sir,  you  shall. 

Brack.   No,  some  fried  dog-fish ;  your  quails  feed  on 
poison. 
That  old  dog-fox,  that  politician,  Florence  ! 
I'll  forswear  hunting,  and  turn  dog-killer. 
Rare  !  I'll  be  friends  with  him  ;    for,  mark  you,  sir,  one 

dog 
Still  sets  another  a-barking.     Peace,  peace! 


Il6  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Yonder's  a  fine  slave  come  in  now. 

Flam.  Where  ? 

Brack.  Why,  there,     loo 

In  a-blue  bonnet,  and  a  pair  of  breeches 
With  a  great  cod-piece :  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
Look  you,  his  cod-piece  is  stuck  full  of  pins. 
With  pearls  o'  th'  head  of  them.     Do  not  you  know  him  ? 

Flam.   No,  my  lord. 

Brack.  Why  'tis  the  devil. 

I  know  him  by  a  great  rose  he  wears  on's  shoe, 
To  hide  his  cloven  foot.  I'll  dispute  with  him ; 
He's  a  rare  linguist. 

.  Vit.  My  lord,  here's  nothing. 

Brack.   Nothing  !  rare  !  nothing  !  when  I  want  money, 
Our  treasury  is  empty,  there  is  nothing :  no 

I'll  not  be  used  thus. 

Vit.  0,  lie  still,  my  lord  ! 

Brack.   See,  see  Flamineo,  that  killed  his  brother, 
Is  dancing  on  the  ropes  there,  and  he  carries 
A  money-bag  in  each  hand,  to  keep  him  even, 
For  fear  of  breaking's  neck :  and  there's  a  lawyer, 
In  a  gown  whipped  with  velvet,"^  stares  and  gapes 
When  the  money  will  fall.     How  the  rogue  cuts  capers  ! 
It  should  have  been  in  a  halter. 
'Tis  there ;  what's  she  ? 

Flam.  Vittoria,  my  lord. 

Brack.   Ha,  ha,  ha  !   her  hair  is  sprinkled  with  arras- 
powder.  120 
That  makes  her  look  as  if  she  had  sinned  in  the  pastry. 
What's  he  ? 

Flam.  A  divine,  my  lord. 

[Brachiano  seems  kere  near  his  end;  LoDOVico  and 
Gasparo,  in  tke  kabit  oj  Capuckins,  present  him 
in  kis  bed  ivitk  a  crucifix  and  halloived  candle. 

Brack.   He  will  be  drunk ;  avoid  him :  th'  argument 
Is  fearful,  when  churchmen  stagger  in't." 
Look  you,  six  grey  rats  that  have  lost  their  tails 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  I17 

Crawl  up  the  pillow ;  send  for  a  rat-catcher : 

I'll  do  a  miracle,  I'll  free  the  court 

From  all  foul  vermin.     Where's  Flamineo  ? 

Flam.   I  do  not  Uke  that  he  names  me  so  often, 
Especially  on's  death-bed ;   'tis  a  sign  130 

I  shall  not  live  long.     See,  he's  near  his  end. 

Lod.   Pray,  give  us  leave.  Attende,  domine  Brachiane. 

Flam.  See,  see  how  firmly  he  doth  fix  his  eye 
Upon  the  crucifix. 

Vit.  O,  hold  it  constant ! 

It  settles  his  wild  spirits ;  and  so  his  eyes 
Melt  into  tears. 

Lod.  Domine  Brachiane,  solehas  in  bello  tutus  esse  tuo 
clypeo;  nunc  hunc  clypeum  hosti  tuo  opponas  infer nali. 

""---_,_^^^  [By  the  crucifix. 

Gas.  Olim  hastoT valuisti  in  bello;  nunc  banc  sacram 
hastam  vibrabis  contra  hosteni  animarum.  140 

[By  the  hallowed  taper. 

Lod.  Attende,  domine  Brachiane,  si  nunc  quoque  probas 
ea,  qucB  acta  sunt  inter  nos,  flecte  caput  in  dextrum. 

Gas.  Esto  securus,  domine  Brachiane ;  cogita,  quantum 
habeas  meritorum;  denique  memineris  meam  animam 
pro  tud  oppignoratam  si  quid  esset  periculi. 

Lod.   Si.  nunc  quoque  probas  ea,  quce  acta  sunt  inter 
nos,  flecte  caput  in  Icevum^ 
He  is  departing :  pray  stand  all  apart. 
And  let  us  only  whisper  in  his  ears 

Some  private  meditations,  which  our  order  150 

Permits  you  not  to  hear. 

[Here,  the    rest    being   departed,  Lodovico    atid 
Gasparo  discover  themselves. 

Gas.  Brachiano. 

Lod.   Devil  Brachiano,  thou  art  damned. 

Gas.  Perpetually. 

Lod.  A  slave  condemned  and  given  up  to  the  gallows. 
Is  thy  great  lord  and  master. 

Gas.  True ;  for  thou 


Ii8  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Art  given  up  to  the  devil. 

Lod.  O  you  slave  ! 

You  that  were  held  the  famous  politician, 
Whose  art  was  poison! 

Gas.  And  whose  conscience,  murder. 

Lod.   That  would  have  broke  your  wife's  neck  down 
the  stairs. 
Ere  she  was  poisoned! 

Gas.  That  had  your  villainous  sallets. 

Lod.   And  fine  embroidered  bottles,  and  perfumes,    i6o 
Equally  mortal  with  a  winter  plague. 

Gas.   Now  there's  mercury  — 

Lod.  And  copperas  — 

Gas.  And  quicksilver  — 

Lod.   With  other  devilish  'pothecary  stuff, 
A  melting  in  your  politic  brains :  dost  hear  ? 

Gas.   This  is  count  Lodovico. 

Lod.  This,  Gasparo; 

And  thou  shalt  die  like  a  poor  rogue. 

Gas.  And  stink 

Like  a  dead  fly-blown  dog. 

Lod.   And  be  forgotten  before  thy  funeral  sermon. 

Brack.   Vittoria  !   Vittoria  ! 

Lod.  O  the  cursed  devil 

Comes  to  himself  again  !  we  are  undone.  170 

Enter  Vittoria  and  the  Attendants 

Gas.   Strangle  him  in  private. 
What !   will  you  call  him  again 
To  live  in  treble  torments  ?  for  charity, 
For  Christian  charity,  avoid  the  chamber. 

[Vittoria  and  the  rest  retire. 
Lod.   You  would  prate,  sir  ?    This  is  a  true-love-knot 
Sent  from  the  duke  of  Florence. 

[Brachiano  is  strangled. 
Gas.  \        What,  is  it  done  ? 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  II9 

Lod.  The  snuff  is  out.  No  woman-keeper  i'  th'  world, 
Though  she  had  practised  seven  year  at  the  pest-house," 
Could  have  done't  quaintlier.     My  lords,  he's  dead. 

ViTTORiA  and  the  others  come  forward 

Omnes.   Rest  to  his  soul ! 

Vit.  O  me  !  this  place  is  hell.  180 

[Exit. 

Fran.   How  heavily  she  takes  it ! 

Flam.  O,  yes,  yes ; 

Had  women  navigable  rivers  in  their  eyes, 
They  would  dispend  them  all.     Surely,  I  wonder 
Why  we  should  wish  more  rivers  to  the  city. 
When  they  sell  water  so  good  cheap."     I'll  tell  thee, 
These  are  but  moonish  shades  of  griefs  or  fears ; 
There's  nothing  sooner  dry  than  women's  tears. 
Why,  here's  an  end  of  all  my  harvest ;  he  has  given  me 

nothing. 
Court  promises  !  let  wise  men  count  them  cursed 
For  while  you  live,  he  that  scores  best,  pays  worst.      190 

Fran.    Sure,  this  was  Florence'  doing. 

Flam.  Very  likely  : 

Those  are  found  weighty  strokes  which  come  from  th' 

hand, 
But  those  are  kiUing  strokes  which  come  from  th'  head. 
O,  the  rare  tricks  of  a  Machiavelian  ! " 
He  doth  not  come,  like  a  gross  plodding  slave, 
And  buffet  you  to  death;  no,  my  quaint  knave, 
He  tickles  you  to  death,  makes  you  die  laughing. 
As  if  you  had  swallowed  down  a  pound  of  saffron." 
You  see  the  feat,  'tis  practised  in  a  trice ; 
To  teach  court  honesty,  it  jumps  on  ice.°  200 

Fran.   Now  have  the  people  liberty  to  talk. 
And  descant  on  his  vices. 

Flam.  Misery  of  princes, 

That  must  of  force  be  censured  by  their  slaves  ! 


I20  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  V 

Not  only  blamed  for  doing  things  are  ill, 
But  for  not  doing  all  that  all  men  will : 
One  were  better  be  a  thresher.     Ud'sdeath  !   I 
Would  fain  speak  with  this  duke  yet. 

Fran.  Now  he's  dead  ? 

Flam.   I  cannot  conjure ;  but  if  prayers  or  oaths 
Will  get  to  th'  speech  of  him,  though  forty  devils 
Wait  on  him  in  his  livery  of  flames,  210 

I'll  speak  to  him,  and  shake  him  by  the  hand, 
Though  I  be  blasted.  [Exit. 

Fran.  Excellent  Lodovico  ! 

What !  did  you  terrify  him  at  the  last  gasp  ? 

Lod.   Yes,  and  so  idly,  that  the  duke  had  like 
T'  have  terrified  us. 

Fran.  How  ? 

Lod.  You  shall  hear  that  hereafter. 

Enter  Zanche  the  Moor 

See,  yon's  the  infernal  °  that  would  make  up  sport. 

Now  to  the  revelation  of  that  secret 

She  promised  when  she  fell  in  love  with  you. 

Fran.   You're  passionately  met  in  this  sad  world. 

Zan.   I  would  have  you  look  up,  sir;    these   court 
tears  220 

Claim  not  your  tribute  to  them :  let  those  weep. 
That  guiltily  partake  in  the  sad  cause. 
I  knew  last  night,  by  a  sad  dream  I  had, 
Some  mischief  would  ensue  ;  yet,  to  say  truth, 
My  dream  most  concerned  you. 

Lod.  Shall 's  fall  a-dreaming? 

Fran.   Yes,  and  for  fashion  sake  I'll  dream  with  her. 

Zan.   Methought,  sir,  you  came  stealing  to  my  bed, 

Fran.   Wilt  thou  believe  me,  sweeting  ?  by  this  light, 
I  was  a-dreamt  on  thee  too ;  for  methought 
I  saw  thee  naked. 

Zan.  Fie,  sir  !  as  I  told  you,  230 


SCENE  III]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  121 

Methought  you  lay  down  by  mc. 

Fran.  So  dreamt  I ; 

And  lest  thou  shouldst  take  cold,  I  covered  thee 
With  this  Irish  mantle. 

Zan.  Verily  I  did  dream 

You  were  somewhat  bold  with  me :  but  to  come  to't  — 

Lod.   How  !  how  !   I  hope  you  will  not  go  to't  here. 

Fran.   Nay,  you  must  hear  my  dream  out. 

Zan.  Well,  sir,  forth. 

Fran.   When  I  threw  the  mantle  o'er  thee,  thou  didst 
laugh 
Exceedingly,  methought.  * 

Zan.  La,iigh  \- 

Fran.  And  cried'st  out. 

The  hair  did  tickle  thee. 

Zan.  There  was  a  dream  indeed  ! 

Lod.   Mark  her,  I  prithee,  she  simpers  like  the  suds 
A  collier  hath  been  washed  in.  241 

Zan.    Come,  sir ;  good  fortune  tends  you.    I  did  tell  you 
I  would  reveal  a  secret :  Isabella, 
The  duke  of  Florence'  sister,  was  empoisoned 
By  a  fumed  picture  ;  and  Camillo's  neck 
Was  broke  by  damned  Flamineo,  the  mischance 
Laid  on  a  vaulting-horse. 

Fran.   Most  strange ! 

Zan.  Most  true. 

Lod.  The  bed  of  snakes  is  broke. 

Zan.   I  sadly  do  confess,  I  had  a  hand 
In  the  black  deed. 

Fran.  Thou  kept'st  their  counsel. 

Zan.  Right ;     250 

For  which,  urged  with  contrition,  I  intend 
This  night  to  rob  Vittoria. 

Lod.  Excellent  penitence  ! 

Usurers  dream  on't  while  they  sleep  out  sermons. 
.   Zan.   To  further  our  escape,  I  have  entreated 
Leave  to  retire  me,  till  the  funeral, 


122  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Unto  a  friend  i'  th'  country  :  that  excuse 
Will  further  our  escape.     In  coin  and  jewels 
I  shall  at  least  make  good  unto  your  use 
An  hundred  thousand  crowns. 

Fran.  O  noble  wench  ! 

Lod.   Those  crowns  we'll  share. 

Zan.  It  is  a  dowry,  260 

Methinks,  should  make  that  sunburnt  proverb  °  false, 
And  wash  the  ^Ethiop  white. 

Fran.  It  shall ;  away ! 

Zan.   Be  ready  for  our  flight. 

I^an.  An  hour  'fore  day. 

[Exit  Zanche. 
O,  strange  discovery  !  why,  till  now  we  knew  not 
The  circumstance  of  either  of  their  deaths. 

Re-enter  Zanche 

Zan.   You'll  wait  about  midnight  in  the  chapel  ? 

Fran.  There.     [Exit  Zanche. 

Lod.   Why,  now  our  action's  justified. 

Fran.  Tush,  for  justice  ! 

What  harms  it  justice  ?  we  now,  like  the  partridge, 
Purge  the  disease  with  laurel ;  °  for  the  fame  269 

Shall  crown  the  enterprise,  and  quit  the  shame.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IV 

Enter   Flamineo   and   Gasparo,   at  one   door;    another 
way,  Giovanni,  attended 

Gas.  The  young  duke :  did  you  e'er  see  a  sweeter 
prince  ? 

Flam.  I  have  known  a  poor  woman's  bastard  better 
favoured :  this  is  behind  him  ;  now,  to  his  face,  all  com- 
parisons were  hateful.  Wise  was  the  courtly  peacock, 
that,  being  a  great  minion,  and  being  compared  for  beauty 


SCENE  IV]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  123 

by  some  dotterels  that  stood  by  to  the  kingly  eagle,  said 
the  eagle  was  a  far  fairer  bird  than  herself,  not  in  respect 
of  her  feathers,  but  in  respect  of  her  long  tallants :  his 
will  grow  out  in  time.  —  My  gracious  lord.  10 

Giov.   I  pray  leave  me,  sir. 

Flam.  Your  grace  must  be  merry;  'tis  I  have  cause 
to  mourn ;  for  wot  you,  what  said  the  little  boy  that 
rode  behind  his  father  on  horseback  ? 

Giov.   Why,  what  said  he  ? 

Flam.  When  you  are  dead,  father,  said  he,  I  hope 
then  I  shall  ride  in  the  saddle.  O,  'tis  a  brave  thing 
for  a  man  to  sit  by  himself !  he  may  stretch  himself 
in  the  stirrups,  look  about,  and  see  the  whole  compass 
of  the  hemisphere.     You're  now,  my  lord,  i'  th'  saddle.  20 

Giov.  Study  your  prayers,  sir,  and  be  penitent : 
'Twere  fit  you'd  think  on  what  hath  former  been ; 
I  have  heard  grief  named  the  eldest  child  of  sin.       [Exit. 

Flam.  Study  my  prayers  !  he  threatens  me  divinely  ! 
I  am  falling  to  pieces  already.  I  care  not,  though,  like 
Anacharsis,°  I  were  pounded  to  death  in  a  mortar  :  and 
yet  that  death  were  fitter  for  usurers,  gold  and  themselves 
to  be  beaten  together,  to  make  a  most  cordial  cullis  °  for 
the  devil. 

He  hath  his  uncle's  villainous  look  already,  30 

Enter   Courtier 

In  decimo  sexto.  —  Now,  sir,  what  are  you  ? 

Cour.  It  is  the  pleasure,  sir,  of  the  young  duke,  that 
you  forbear  the  presence,  and  all  rooms  that  owe  him 
reverence. 

Flam.  So  the  wolf  and  the  raven  are  very  pretty  fools 
when  they  are  young.  Is  it  your  office,  sir,  to  keep  me 
out? 

Cour.   So  the  duke  wills.  38 

Flam.  Verily,  master  courtier,  extremity  is  not  to  be 
used  in  all  ofi&ces :  say,  that  a  gentlewoman  were  taken 


124  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

out  of  her  bed  about  midnight,  and  committed  to  Castle 
Angelo,  to  the  tower  yonder,  with  nothing  about  her 
but  her  smock,  would  it  not  show  a  cruel  part  in  the 
gentleman-porter  to  lay  claim  to  her  upper  garment,  pull 
it  o'er  her  head  and  ears,  and  put  her  in  naked  ? 

Cour.   Very  good :  you  are  merry.  [Exit. 

Flam.  Doth  he  make  a  court-ejectment  of  me  ?  a  flam- 
ing fire-brand  casts  more  smoke  without  a  chimney  than 
within't.     I'll  smoor  some  of  them. 

Enter  Francisco  de  Medicis 

How  now  ?  thou  art  sad.  5° 

Fran.   I  met  even  now  with  the  most  piteous  sight. 

Flam.   Thou  meet'st  another  here,  a  pitiful 
Degraded  courtier. 

Fran.  Your  reverend  mother 

Is  grown  a  very  old  woman  in  two  hours. 
I  found  them  winding  of  Marcello's  corse ; 
And  there  is  such  a  solemn  melody, 
'Tween  doleful  songs,  tears,  and  sad  elegies ; 
Such  as  old  grandames,  watching  by  the  dead. 
Were  wont  t'  outwear  the  nights  with,  that,  believe  me, 
I  had  no  eyes  to  guide  me  forth  the  room,  60 

They  were  so  o'ercharged  with  water. 

Flam.  I  will  see  them. 

Fran.  'Twere  much  uncharity  in  you ;  for  your  sight 
Will  add  unto  their  tears. 

Flam.  I  will  see  them  : 

They  are  behind  the  traverse ;  °  I'll  discover 
Their  superstitious  howling. 

Cornelia,  the  Moor,  and  three    other    ladies    discovered 
winding  Marcello's  corse.    A  song 

Cor.  This  rosemary  is  withered ;  pray,  get  fresh. 
I  would  have  these  herbs  grow  up  in  his  grave. 


SCENE  IV]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  125 

When  I  am  dead  and  rotten.     Reach  the  bays, 

I'll  tie  a  garland  here  about  his  head; 

'Twill  keep  my  boy  from  lightning.     This  sheet  70 

I  have  kept  this  twenty  year,  and  every  day 

Hallowed  it  with  my  prayers ;  I  did  not  think 

He  should  have  wore  it. 

Zan.  Look  yoiipASjho  are  yonder  ? 

Cor.   0,  reach  me  the  flowers  !  ""  ~-^ 

Zan.   Her  ladyship's  foolish. 

Woman.  Alas,  her  grief 

Hath  turned  her  child  again  ! 

Cor.  You're  very  welcome : 

There's  rosemary  for  you,  and  rue  for  you,  [To  Flamineo. 
Heartsease  for  you ;  I  pray  make  much  of  it, 
I  have  left  more  for  myself." 

Fran.  Lady,  who's  this  ? 

Cor.   You  are,  I  take  it,  the  grave-maker. 

Flam.  So.  so 

Zan.   'Tis  Flamineo. 

Cor.   Will  you  make  me  such  a  fool?   here's  a  white 
hand: 
Can  blood  so  soon  be  washed  out  ?  let  me  see ; 
When  screech-owls  croak  upon  the  chimney-tops. 
And  the  strange  cricket  i'  th'  oven  sings  and  hops. 
When  yellow  spots  do  on  your  hands  appear. 
Be  certain  then  you  of  a  corse  shall  hear. 
Out  upon't,  how  'tis  specked  !  h'as  handled  a  toad  sure. 
Cowslip  water  is  good  for  the  memory : 
Pray,  buy  me  three  ounces  oft.  90 

Flam.   I  would  I  were  from  hence. 

Cor.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ? 

I'll  give  you  a  saying  which  my  grandmother 
Was  wont,  when  she  heard  the  bell  toll,  to  sing  o'er 
Unto  her  lute. 

Flam.  Do,  an  you  will,"  do. 

[Cornelia  doth  this  in  several  forms  of  distraction. 

Cor.   Call  for  the  robin  redbreast,  and  the  wren, 


126  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Since  o'er  shady  groves  they  hover, 

And  with  leaves  and  flowers  do  cover 

The  friendless  bodies  oj  unhuried  men. 

Call  unto  his  funeral  dole 

The  ant,  the  field-mouse,  and  the  mole,  loo 

To  rear  him  hillocks  that  shall  keep  him  warm, 

And  {when  gay  tombs  are  robbed)  sustain  no  harm; 

But  keep  the  ivolf  far  thence,  that's  foe  to  men. 

For  with  his  nails  hell  dig  them  up  again. 

They  would  not  bury  him  'cause  he  died  in  a  quarrel ; 

But  I  have  an  answer  for  them : 

Let  holy  church  receive  him  duly, 

Since  he  paid  the  church-tithes  truly. 

His  wealth  is  summed,  and  this  is  all  his  store, 

This  poor  men  get,  and  great  men  get  no  more.  no 

Now  the  wares  are  gone,  we  may  shut  up  shop. 

Bless  you  all,  good  people. 

[Exeunt  Cornelia  and  Ladies. 
Flam.   I  have  a  strange  thing  in  me,  to  th'  which 
I  cannot  give  a  name,  without  it  be 
Compassion.     I  pray  leave  me.  [Exit  Francisco. 

This  night  I'll  know  the  utmost  of  my  fate ; 
I'll  be  resolved  what  my  rich  sister  means 
T'  assign  me  for  my  service.     I  have  lived 
Riotously  ill,  like  some  that  live  in  court. 
And  sometimes  when  my  face  was  full  of  smiles,  120 

Have  felt  the  maze  of  conscience  in  my  breast. 
Oft  gay  and  honoured  robes  those  tortures  try : 
"We  think  caged  birds  sing,  when  indeed  they  cry." 
Ha  !  I  can  stand  thee  :  nearer,  nearer  yet. 

Enter  Brachiano's  Ghost,  in  his  leather  cassock  and 
breeches,  boots,  a  cowl;  in  his  hand  a  pot  of  lily  flowers, 
with  a  skull  in  it 

What  a  mockery  hath  death  made  thee  !  thou  look'st  sad. 
In  what  place  art  thou  ?  in  yon  starry  gallery  ? 


SCENE  V]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  I27 

Or  in  the  cursed  dungeon  ?  —  no  ?  not  speak  ? 

Pray,  sir,  resolve  me,  what  religion's  best 

For  a  man  to  die  in  ?  or  is  it  in  your  knowledge 

To  answer  me  how  long  I  have  to  live  ?  13° 

That's  the  most  necessary  question. 

Not  answer  ?  are  you  still,  like  some  great  men 

That  only  walk  like  shadows  up  and  down. 

And  to  no  purpose ;  say  — 

[The  Ghost  throws  earth  upon  him,  and  shows  him 
the  skull. 
What's  that  ?     0  fatal !  he  throws  earth  upon  me. 
A  dead  man's  skull  beneath  the  roots  of  flowers  ! 
I  pray  speak,  sir  :  our  Italian  churchmen 
Make  us  believe  dead  men  hold  conference 
With  their  familiars,  and  many  times 
Will  come  to  bed  to  them,  and  eat  with  them.  140 

[Exit  Ghost. 
He's  gone ;   and  see,  the  skull  and  earth  are  vanished. 
This  is  beyond  melancholy.     I  do  dare  my  fate 
To  do  its  worst.     Now  to  my  sister's  lodging. 
And  sum  up  all  these  horrors :  the  disgrace 
The  prince  threw  on  me ;   next  the  piteous  sight 
Of  my  dead  brother ;  and  my  mother's  dotage ; 
And  last  this  terrible  vision  :  all  these 
Shall  with  Vittoria's  bounty  turn  to  good. 
Or  I  will  drown  this  weapon  in  her  blood.  [Exit. 

Scene  V° 

Enter  Francisco,  Lodovico,  and  Hortensio 

Lod.   My  lord,  upon  my  soul  you  shall  no  further ; 
You  have  most  ridiculously  engaged  yourself 
Too  far  already.     For  my  part,  I  have  paid 
All  my  debts :  so,  if  I  should  chance  to  fall. 
My  creditors  fall  not  with  me ;  and  I  vow, 
To  quit  all  in  this  bold  assembly, 


128  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  [act  v 

To  the  meanest  follower.     My  lord,  leave  the  city, 

Or  I'll  forswear  the  murder.  [Exit. 

Fran.  Farewell,  Lodovico  : 

If  thou  dost  perish  in  this  glorious  act, 
I'll  rear  unto  thy  memory  that  fame,  lo 

Shall  in  the  ashes  keep  alive  thy  name.  [Exit. 

Hor.   There's  some  black  deed  on  foot.     I'll  presently 
Down  to  the  citadel,  and  raise  some  force. 
These  strong  court-factions,  that  do  brook  no  checks, 
In  the  career  oft  break  the  riders'  necks.  [Exit. 

Scene  VI" 

Enter  Vittoria  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  Zanche;  Fla- 
MiNEO  following  them 

Flam.   What  ?   are  you  at  your  prayers  ?   give  o'er. 

Vit.  How,  ruffian ! 

Flam.   I  come  to  you  'bout  wordly  business. 
Sit  down,  sit  down :  nay,  stay,  blouze,  you  may  hear  it : 
The  doors  are  fast  enough. 

Vit.  Ha  !  are  you  drunk  ? 

Flam.   Yes,  yes,   with  wormwood  water;    you  shall 
taste 
Some  of  it  presently. 

Vit.  Wliat  intends  the  fury  ? 

Flam.   You  are  my  lord's  executrix ;   and  I  claim 
Reward  for  my  long  service. 

Vit.  For  your  service  ! 

Flam.    Come,  therefore,  here  is  pen  and  ink,  set  down 
What  you  will  give  me. 

Vit.  There.  [She  writes. 

Flam.  Ha!  have  you  done  already  ?  lo 

'Tis  a  most  short  conveyance. 

Vit.  I  will  read  it: 

I  give  that  portion  to  thee,  and  no  other. 
Which  Cain  groaned  under,  having  slain  his  brother." 


SCENE  m]  the  white  devil  129 

Flam.   A  most  courtly  patent  to  beg  by. 

Vit.  You  are  a  villain  ! 

Flam.   Is't   come   to   this?     they   say   affrights   cure 
agues : 
Thou  hast  a  devil  in  thee ;  I  will  try 
If  I  can  scare  him  from  thee.     Nay,  sit  still : 
My  lord  hath  left  me  yet  two  case  of  jewels, 
Shall  make  me  scorn  your  bounty;   you  shall  see  them. 

[Exit. 

Vit.   Sure  he's  distracted. 

Zan.  O,  he's  desperate !  20 

For  your  own  safety  give  him  gentle  language. 

[He  re-enters  with  two  case  of  pistols.'^ 

Flam.   Look,  these  are  better  far  at  a  dead  lift, 
Than  all  your  jewel-house. 

]'//.  And  yet,  methinks, 

These  stones  °  have  no  fair  lustre,  they  are  ill  set. 

Flam.   I'll  turn  the  right  side  towards  you ;   you  shall 
see 
How  they  will  sparkle. 

Vit.  Turn  this  horror  from  me  ! 

What  do  you  want  ?  what  would  you  have  me  do  ? 
Is  not  all  mine  yours  ?   have  I  any  children  ? 

Flam.   Pray  thee,  good  woman,  do  not  trouble  me 
With  this  vain  worldly  business ;  say  your  prayers :      30 
I  made  a  vow  to  my  deceased  lord. 
Neither  yourself  nor  I  should  outlive  him 
The  numbering  of  four  hours. 

Vit.  Did  he  enjoin  it  ? 

Flam.   He  did,  and  'twas  a  deadly  jealousy, 
Lest  any  should  enjoy  thee  after  him, 
That  urged  him  vow  me  to  it.     For  my  death, 
I  did  propound  it  voluntarily,  knowing. 
If  he  could  not  be  safe  in  his  own  court, 
Being  a  great  duke,  what  hope  then  for  us  ? 

Vit.   This  is  your  melancholy,  and  despair. 

Flam.  Away  !  40 

WEBSTER   AND   TOURNEUR O 


I30  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

Fool  thou  art,  to  think  that  pohticians 

Do  use  to  kill  the  effects  of  injuries 

And  let  the  cause  live.     Shall  we  groan  in  ironS; 

Or  be  a  shameful  and  weighty  burthen 

To  a  public  scaffold  ?     This  is  my  resolve : 

I  would  not  live  at  any  man's  entreaty, 

Nor  die  at  any's  bidding. 

Vit.  Will  you  hear  me  ? 

Flam.   My  life  hath  done  service  to  other  men. 
My  death  shall  serve  mine  own  turn :   make  you  ready. 

Vit.   Do  you  mean  to  die  indeed  ? 

Flam.  With  as  much  pleasure,   50 

As  e'er  my  father  gat  me. 

Vit.  Are  the  doors  locked  ? 

Zan.   Yes,  madam. 

Vit.   Are  you  grown  an  atheist  ?    will  you  turn  your 
body 
Which  is  the  goodly  palace  of  the  soul. 
To  the  soul's  slaughter-house?     0,  the  cursed  devil. 
Which  doth  present  us  with  all  other  sins 
Thrice  candied  o'er,  despair  with  gall  and  stibium ; 
Yet  we  carouse  it  off ;  —  [Aside  to  Zanche.]  Cry  out  for 

help !  — 
Make  us  forsake  that  which  was  made  for  man. 
The  world,  to  sink  to  that  was  made  for  devils,  60 

Eternal  darkness  ! 

Zan.  Help,  help  I 

Flam.  I'll  stop  your  throat 

With  winter  plums. 

Vit.  I  prithee  yet  remember, 

Millions  are  now  in  graves,  which  at  last  day 
Like  mandrakes  shall  rise  shrieking." 

Flafn.  Leave  your  prating. 

For  these  are  but  grammatical  laments," 
Feminine  arguments  :  and  they  move  me, 
As  some  in  pulpits  move  their  auditory, 
More  with  their  exclamation,  than  sense 


SCENE  VI]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  13 1 

Of  reason,  or  sound  doctrine. 

Zan.     [Aside.]  Gentle  madam, 

Seem  to  consent,  only  persuade  him  teach  70 

The  way  to  death ;  let  him  die  first. 

VU.    'Tis  good,  I  apprehend  it.  — 
To  kill  one's  self  is  meat  that  we  must  take 
Like  pills,  not  chewed,  but  quickly  swallow  it ; 
The  smart  o'  th'  wound,  or  weakness  of  the  hand, 
May  else  bring  treble  torments. 

Flam.  I  have  held  it 

A  wretched  and  most  miserable  life, 
Which  is  not  able  to  die. 

VU.  0,  but  frailty  ! 

Yet  I  am  now  resolved ;  farewell,  affliction  ! 
BeholH,  Brachiano,  I  that  while  you  lived  80 

Did  make  a  flaming  altar  of  my  heart 
To  sacrifice  unto  you,  now  am  ready 
To  sacrifice  heart  and  all.     Farewell,  Zanche  ! 

Zan.    How,    madam !     do     you    think    I'll    outlive 
you; 
Especially  when  my  best  self,  Flamineo, 
Goes  the  same  voyage  ? 

Flam.  O,  most  loved  Moor-! 

Zan.   Only,  by  all  my  love,  let  me  entreat  you, — 
Since  it  is  most  necessary  one  of  us 
Do  violence  on  ourselves,  —  let  you  or  I 
Be  her  sad  taster,"  teach  her  how  to  die.  9^ 

Flam.   Thou    dost    instruct    me    nobly;     take    these 
pistols. 
Because  my  hand  is  stained  with  blood  already : 
Two  of  these  you  shall  level  at  my  breast. 
The  other  'gainst  your  own,  and  so  we'll  die 
Most  equally  contented :  but  first  swear 
Not  to  outlive  me. 

VU.  and  Zan.         Most  religiously. 

Flam.   Then  here's  an  end  of  me;  farewell,  daylight! 
And,  O  contemptible  physic  !  that  dost  take 


132  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

So  long  a  study,  only  to  preserve 

So  short  a  life,  I  take  my  leave  of  thee.  loo 

[Showing  the  pistols. 
These  are  two  cupping-glasses,  that  shall  draw 
All  my  infected  blood  out.     Are  you  ready  ? 

Both.  Ready. 

Flam.  Whither  shall  I  go  now  ?  0  Lucian,  thy  ridicu- 
lous purgatory!"^  to  find  Alexander  the  Great  cobbling 
shoes,  Pompey  tagging  points,'^  and  Julius  Caesar  making 
hair-buttons  !  Hannibal  selling  blacking,  and  Augustus 
crying  garlic  !  Charlemagne  selling  lists  by  the  dozen, 
and  king  Pepin  crying  apples  in  a  cart  drawn  with  one 
horse  ! 

Whether  I  resolve  to  fire,  earth,  water,  air,  no 

Or  all  the  elements  by  scruples,  I  know  not. 
Nor  greatly  care  —  Shoot,  shoot, 
Of  all  deaths,  the  violent  death  is  best ; 
For  from  ourselves  it  steals  ourselves  so  fast, 
The  pain,  once  apprehended,  is  quite  past. 

[They  shoot,  and  run  to  him,  and  tread  upon  him. 

Vit.   What,  are  you  dropped  ? 

Flam.   I  am  mixed  with  earth  already :    as  you  are 
noble,' 
Perform  your  vows,  and  bravely  follow  me. 

Vit.   Whither?  to  hell? 

Zan.  To  most  assured  damnation  ? 

Vit.   O  thou  most  cursed  devil ! 

Zan.  Thou  art  caught  —  120 

Vit.   In  thine  own  engine.     I  tread  the  fire  out 
That  would  have  been  my  ruin. 

Flam.  Will  you  be  perjured  ?  what  a  religious  oath 
was  Styx,  that  the  gods  never  durst  swear  by,  and  \'io- 
late  !  0  that  we  had  such  an  oath  to  minister,  and  to 
be  so  well  kept  in  our  courts  of  justice  ! 

Vit.   Think  whither  thou  art  going. 

Zan.  And  remember 

What  villainies  thou  hast  acted. 


SCENE  vi]  THE   WHITE    DEVIL  133 

Vil.  This  thy  death 

Shall  make  me,  like  a  blazing  ominous  star : 
Look  up  and  tremble. 

Flam.  0,  I  am  caught  with  a  springe  !  130 

Vit.   You  see  the  fox  comes  many  times  short  home ; 
'Tis  here  proved  true. 

Flam.  Killed  with  a  couple  of  braches  ! 

Vit.   No  fitter  offering  for  the  infernal  furies, 
Than  one  in  whom  they  reigned  while  he  was  living. 

Flam.   O,  the  way's  dark  and  horrid  !     I  cannot  see : 
Shall  I  have  no  company  ? 

Vit.  0  yes,  thy  sins 

Do  run  before  thee  to  fetch  fire  from  hell, 
To  light  thee  thither. 

Flam.  0,  I  smell  soot, 

Most  stinking  soot !   the  chimney's  afire : 
My  liver's  parboiled,  like  Scotch  holly-bread;  140 

There's  a  plumber' laying  pipes  in  my  guts,  it  scalds. 
Wilt  thou  outlive  me  ? 

Zan.  Yes,  and  drive  a  stake  ° 

Through  thy  body ;   for  we'll  give  it  out. 
Thou  didst  this  violence  upon  thyself. 

Flam.   O  cunning  devils  !   now  I  have  tried  your  love, 
And  doubled  all  your  reaches.^     I  am  not  wounded. 

[Flamineo  riseth. 
The  pistols  held  no  bullets ;   'twas  a  plot 
To  prove  your  kindness  to  me ;  and  I  live 
To  punish  your  ingratitude.     I  knew, 
One  time  or  other,  you  would  find  a  way  150 

To  give  me  a  strong  potion.     0  men. 
That  lie  upon  your  death-beds,  and  are  haunted 
With  howling  wives,  ne'er  trust  them  !  they'll  re-marry 
Ere  the  worm  pierce  your  winding-sheet,  ere  the  spider 
Make  a  thin  curtain  for  your  epitaphs. 
How  cunning  you  were  to  discharge  !    do  you  practise 
at  the  artillery-yard  ?  "     Trust  a  woman  !  never,  never  ! 
Brachiano  be  my  precedent.     We  lay  our  souls  to  pawn 


134  THE  WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

to  the  devil  for  a  little  pleasure,  and  a  woman  makes 
the  bill  of  sale.  That  ever  man  should  marry  !  For 
one  Hypermnestra  that  saved  her  lord  and  husband, 
forty-nine  of  her  sisters  cut  their  husbands'  throats  all 
in  one  night. °  There  was  a  shoal  of  virtuous  horse- 
leeches !     Here  are  two  other  instruments.  104. 

Enter  Lodovico,  Gasparo 

Vit.   Help!  help! 

Flam.    What  noise  is  that  ?  ha  !  false  keys  i'  th'  court ! 

Lod.   We  have  brought  you  a  mask. 

Flam.  A  matachin  °  it  seems 

By  your  drawn  swords.     Churchmen  "  turned  revellers  ! 

Gas.   Isabella  !   Isabella  ! 

Lod.   Do  you  know  us  now  ? 

Flam.  Lodovico  !  and  Gasparo  !  170 

Lod.   Yes ;   and  that  Moor  the  duke  gave  pension  to 
Was  the  great  duke  of  Florence. 

ViL  O,  we  are  lost ! 

Flam.  You  shall  not  take  justice  forth  from  my  hands, — 
O,  let  me  kill  her  !  —  I'll  cut  my  safety 
Through  your  coats  of  steel.     Fate's  a  spaniel, 
We  cannot  beat  it  from  us.     What  remains  now  ? 
Let  all  that  do  ill,  take  this  precedent : 
Man  may  his  fate  foresee,  but  not  prevent : 
And  of  all  axioms  this  shall  win  the  prize, 
'Tis  better  to  be  fortunate  than  loise.  180 

Gas.   Bind  him  to  the  pillar. 

Vit.  O,  your  gentle  pity  ! 

I  have  seen  a  blackbird  that  would  sooner  fly 
To  a  man's  bosom,  than  to  stay  the  gripe 
Of  the  fierce  sparrow-hawk. 

Gas.  Your  hope  deceives  you. 

Vit.   If  Florence  be  i'  th'  court,  would  he  would  kill  me  ! 

Gas.    Fool !  princes  give  rewards  with  their  own  hands, 
But  death  or  punishment  by  the  hands  of  others. 


SCENE  VI]  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  135 

Lod.   Sirrah,  you  once  did  strike  me ;  I'll  strike  you 
Unto  the  centre. 

Flam.   Thou'lt  do  it  Hke  a  hangman,  a  base  hangman, 
Not  like  a  noble  fellow,  for  thou  see'st  191 

I  cannot  strike  again. 

Lod.  Dost  laugh  ? 

Flam.   Would'st  have  me  "die,  as  I  was  born,  in  whin- 
ing? 

Gas.   Recommend  yourself  to  heaven. 

Flam.   No,    I   will   carry   mine   own   commendations 
thither. 

Lod.   O,  could  I  kill  you  forty  times  a  day, 
And  use't  four  year  together,  'twere  too  little  ! 
Nought  grieves  but  that  you  are  too  few  to  feed 
The  famine  of  our  vengeance.     What  dost  think  on  ? 

Flam.   Nothing ;  of  nothing :  leave  thy  idle  questions. 
I  am  i'  th'  way  to  study  a  long  silence :  201 

To  prate  were  idle.     I  remember  nothing. 
There's  nothing  of  so  infinite  vexation 
As  man's  own  thoughts. 

Lod.  0  thou  glorious  strumpet ! 

Could  I  divide  thy  breath  from  this  pure  air 
When't  leaves  thy  body,  I  would  suck  it  up, 
And  breathe't  upon  some  dunghill. 

Vit.  You,  my  death's-man  ! 

Methinks  thou  dost  not  look  horrid  enough,  -  ' 

Thou  hast  too  good  a  face  to  be  a  hangman : 
If  thou  be,  do  thy  office  in  right  form ;  210 

Fall  down  upon  thy  knees,  and  ask  forgiveness. 

Lod.   O,  thou  hast  been  a  most  prodigious  comet ! 
But  I'll  cut  off  your  train,  — ^kill  the  Moor  first. 

Vit.   You  shall  not  kill  her  first ;  behold  my  breast : 
I  will  be  waited  on  in  death ;  my  servant 
Shall  never  go  before  me. 

Gas.   Are  you  so  brave  ? 

Vit.  Yes,  I  shall  welcome  death, 

As  princes  do  some  great  ambassadors ; 


136  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

I'll  meet  thy  weapon  half  way. 

Lod.  Thou  dost  tremble : 

Methinks,  fear  should  dissolve  thee  into  air.  220 

Vit.   O,  thou  art  deceived,  I  am  too  true  a  woman  ! 
Conceit  can  never  kill  me.     I'll  tell  thee  what, 
I  will  not  in  my  death  shed  one  base  tear ; 
Or  if  look  pale,  for  want  of  blood,  not  fear. 

Gas.   Thou  art  my  task,  black  fury. 

Zan.  I  have  blood 

As  red  as  either  of  theirs :  wilt  drink  some  ? 
'Tis  good  for  the  falling-sickness.     I  am  proud 
Death  cannot  alter  my  complexion, 
For  I  shall  ne'er  look  pale. 

Lod.  Strike,  strike. 

With  a  joint  motion. 

[They  stab  Vittoria,  Zanche,  and  Flamineo. 

Vit.  'Twas  a  manly  blow ;  230 

The  next  thou  giv'st,  murder  some  sucking  infant ; 
And  then  thou  wilt  be  famous. 

Flam.  O,  what  blade  is't  ? 

A  Toledo,  or  an  English  fox  ? 
I  ever  thought  a  cutler  should  distinguish 
The  cause  of  my  death,  rather  than  a  doctor. 
Search  my  wound  deeper ;  tent  it  with  the  steel 
That  made  it. 

Vit.  O,  my  greatest  sin  lay  in  my  blood  ! 

Now  my  blood  pays  for't. 

Flam.  Th'art  a  noble  sister  ! 

I  love  thee  now :  if  woman  do  breed  man. 
She  ought  to  teach  him  manhood  :  fare  thee  well.         240 
Know,  many  glorious  women  that  are  famed 
For  masculine  virtue,  have  been  vicious. 
Only  a  happier  silence  did  betide  them : 
She  hath  no  faults,  who  hath  the  art  to  hide  them. 

Vit.    My  soul,  like  to  a  ship  in  a  black  storm, 
Is  driven,  I  know  not  whither. 

Flam.  Then  cast  anchor. 


SCENE  VI]  THE    WHITE    DEVIL  137 

Prosperity  doth  bewitch  men,  seeming  clear ; 

But  seas  do  laugh,  show  white,  when  rocks  are  near. 

We  cease  to  grieve,  cease  to  be  fortune's  slaves, 

Nay,  cease  to  die  by  dying.     Art  thou  gone  ?  250 

And  thou  so  near  the  bottom :  false  report. 

Which  says  that  women  vie  with  the  nine  Muses 

For  nine  tough  durable  lives  !     I  do  not  look 

Who  went  before,  nor  who  shall  follow  me ; 

No,  at  myself  I  will  begin  and  end. 

While  we  look  up  to  heaven,  we  confound 

Knowledge  with  knowledge.     0,  I  am  in  a  mist ! 

Vit.   O,  happy  they  that  never  saw  the  court. 
Nor  ever  knew  great  men  but  by  report !  [Dies. 

Flam.   I  recover  like  a  spent  taper,  for  a  flash,  260 

And  instantly  go  out. 

Let  all  that  belong  to  great  men  remember  th'  old  w'ives' 
tradition,   to  be  like  the  lions  i'  th'  Tower  on  Candle- 
masday ;"   to  mourn  if  the  sun  shine,  for  fear  of  the 
pitiful  remainder  of  winter  to  come. 
'Tis  well  yet  there's  some  goodness  in  my  death ; 
My  life  was  a  black  charnel.     I  have  caught 
An  everlasting  cold ;  I  have  lost  my  voice 
Most  irrecoverably.     Farewell,  glorious  villains. 
•This  busy  trade  of  life  appears  most  vain,  270 

Since  rest  breeds  rest,  where  all  seek  pain  by  pain. 
Let  no  harsh  flattering  bells  resound  my  knell ; 
Strike,  thunder,  and  strike  loud,  to  my  farewell !     [Dies. 

Enter  Ambassadors  and  Giovanni 

Eng.  Amh.   This  way,  this  way  !  break  ope  the  doors  ! 
this  way ! 

Lod.   Ha  !  are  we  betrayed  ? 
Why  then  let's  constantly  die  all  together ; 
And  having  finished  this  most  noble  deed, 
Defy  the  worst  of  fate,  not  fear  to  bleed. 

Eng.  Amb.   Keep  back  the  prince :  shoot,  shoot! 


138  THE   WHITE   DEVIL  [act  v 

[They  wound  Lodovico. 

Lod.  O,  I  am  wounded  ! 

I  fear  I  shall  be  ta'en. 

Giov.  You  bloody  villains,  280 

By  what  authority  have  you  committed 
This  massacre  ? 

Lod.  By  thine. 

Giov.  Mine ! 

Lod.  Yes ;  thy  uncle, 

Which  is  a  part  of  thee,  enjoined  us  to't : 
Thou  know'st  me,  I  am  sure ;  I  am  Count  Lodowick ; 
And  thy  most  noble  uncle  in  disguise 
Was  last  night  in  thy  court. 

Giov.  Ha ! 

Lod.  Yes,  that  Moor 

Thy  father  chose  his  pensioner. 

Giov.  He  turned  murderer  ! 

Away  with  them  to  prison,  and  to  torture : 
All  that  have  hands  in  this  shall  taste  our  justice. 
\   As  I  hope  Heaven. 
~   Lod.  I  do  glory  yet.  290 

That  I  can  call  this  act  mine  own.     For  my  part. 
The  rack,  the  gallows,  and  the  torturing  wheel. 
Shall  be  but  sound  sleeps  to  me ;  here's  my  rest ; 
I  limned  this  night-piece,  and  it  was  my  best. 

Giov.   Remove  the  bodies.     See,  my  honoured  lord. 
What  use  you  ought  make  of  their  punishment. 
Let  guilty  men  remember,  their  black  deeds 
Do  lean  on  crutches  made  of  slender  reeds.  [Exeunt. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  MALFI 


THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI 

Webster  borrowed  the  plot  of  Tlie  Duchess  of  Malfi  from 
the  twenty-third  novel  of  the  second  volume  of  Painter's  Palace 
of  Pleasure,  1567.  None  of  the  other  accounts,  of  which  there 
are  several,  furnish  such  complete  details.  The  subject  was 
treated  in  other  literatures,  notably  by  Lope  de  Vega  in  his  El 
Mayordomo  de  la  Diiqtiesa  de  A  malfi,  written  as  early  as  1609, 
but  not  published  until  1618,  four  years  after  Webster's  version 
must  have  been  on  the  stage.  The  horrors  of  Bosola's  torture 
of  the  Duchess  have  recently  been  found  to  have  been  derived 
from  Sidney's  Arcadia.  On  the  subject,  see  Notes  and  Queries, 
Series  X,  Vol.  10.  The  Ditchess  of  Malfi  was  on  the  stage  by 
1614,  though  not  in  print  until  1623. 


140 


DEDICATION 

To  the  Rt.  Hon.  George  Harding,  Baron  Berkeley,  of 
Berkeley  Castle,  and  lOiight  of  the  Order  of  the  Bath 
to  the  illustrious  Prince  Charles. 

My  Noble  Lord, 

That  I  may  present  my  excuse  why,  being  a  stranger  to 
your  lordship,  I  offer  this  poem  to  your  patronage,  I  plead  this 
warrant: — men  who  never  saw  the  sea  yet  desire  to  behold 
that  regiment  of  waters,  choose  some  eminent  river  to  guide 
them  thither,  and  make  that,  as  it  were,  their  conduct  or 
postilion :  by  the  like  ingenious  means  has  your  fame  arrived 
at  my  knowledge,  receiving  it  from  some  of  worth,  who  both  in 
contemplation  and  practice  owe  to  your  honour  their  clearest 
service.  I  do  not  altogether  look  up  at  your  title ;  the  ancient- 
est  nobility  being  but  a  relic  of  time  past,  and  the  truest  honour 
indeed  being  for  a  man  to  confer  honour  on  himself,  which  your 
learning  strives  to  propagate,  and  shall  make  you  arrive  at  the 
dignity  of  a  great  example.  I  am  confident  this  work  is  not 
unworthy  your  honour's  perusal ;  for  by  such  poems  as  this 
poets  have  kissed  the  hands  of  great  princes,  and  drawn  their 
gentle  eyes  to  look  down  upon  their  sheets  of  paper  when  the 
poets  themselves  were  bound  up  in  their  winding-sheets.  The 
like  courtesy  from  your  lordship  shall  make  you  live  in  your 
grave,  and  laurel  spring  out  of  it,  when  the  ignorant  scorners  of 
the  Muses,  that  like  worms  in  libraries  seem  to  live  only  to 
destroy  learning,  shall  wither  neglected  and  forgotten.  This 
work  and  myself  I  humbly  present  to  your  approved  censure, 
it  being  the  utmost  of  my  wishes  to  have  your  honourable  self 
my  weighty  and  perspicuous  comment ;  wliich  grace  so  done  me 
shall  ever  be  acknowledged 

By  your  lordship's  in  all  duty  and  observance, 

John  Webster. 


141 


V.1 

A  DRAMATIS  PERSON AE 

Ferdinand,  Duke  of  Calabria. 

The  Cardinal,  his  Brother. 

Antonio  Bologna,  Steward  of  the  household  to  the  Duchess, 

Delio,  his  Friend. 

Daniel  de  Bosola,  Gentleman  of  the  horse  to  the  Duchess. 

FoROBOSco,  an  Attendant. 

Count  Malateste. 

Castruccio,  an  old  Lord. 

The  Marquis  of  Pescara. 

Roderigo. 

Silvio. 

Grisolan. 

Doctor. 

The  Several  Madmen. 

Court  Officers. 

Three  Young  Children. 

Two  Pilgrims. 

The  Duchess  of  Malfi. 

Cariola,  her  Woman. 

Julia,  Castruccio's  wife,  and  the  Cardinal's  Mistress. 

Old  Lady. 

Scene  —  Malfi,  Rome,  Loretto,  and  Milan 


142 


0, 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  MALFI 

ACT  THE   FIRST 
Scene  I" 
Enter  Antonio  and  Delio 

Delio.  You  are  welcome  to  your  country,  dear  Antonio; 
You  have  been  long  in  France,  and  you  return 
A  very  formal  Frenchman  in  your  habit. 
How  do  you  like  the  French  court  ? 

Ant.  I  admire  it: 

In  seeking  to  reduce  both  state^ani  people  -'^f^^^^^^^  ^i-t^ 
To  a^xed"order,  their  judicious  king 
Begins  aLhome ;  quits  first  his  royal  palace 

Of  flattering  sycophants,  of  dissolute  c    A  

And  infamous  persons,  which  he  sweetly  terms  /^     ^ ^T*t 

His  master  s  masterpiece,  the  work  of  Heaven ;       /      lo  '  *-*''-^ 
Considering  duly,  that  a  prince's  court 
Is  like  a  common  fountain,  whence  should  flow 
Pure  silver  drops  in  general,  but  if't  chance 
Some  cursed  example  poison 't  near  the  head, 
Death  and  diseases  through  the  whole  land  spread. 
And  what  is't  makes  this  blessed  government, 
But  a  most  provident  council,  who  dare  freely 
Inform  him  the  corruption"  of  the  times? 
Though  some  o'  th'  court  hold  it  presumption 
To  instruct  princes  what  they  ought  to  do,  20 

It  is  a  noble  duty  to  inform  them 
What  they  ought  to  foresee.     Here  comes  Bosola, 
The  only  court-gall ;  yet  I  observe  his  railing 
Is  not  for  simple  love  of  piety : 

143 


144  THE    DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  I 

Indeed  he  rails  at  those  things  which  he  wants ; 
Would  be  as  lecherous,  covetous,  or  proud. 
Bloody,  or  envious,  as  any  man, 
If  he  had  means  to  be  so.     Here's  the  Cardinal. 

Enter  Bosola  and  Cardinal 

Bos.   I  do  haunt  you  still. 

Card.   So.°  3° 

Bos.  I  have  done  you  better  service  than  to  be  slighted 
thus.  Miserable  age,  where  only  the  reward  of  doing 
well,  is  the  doing  of  it ! 

Card.   You  enforce  your  merit  too  much. 

Bos.  I  fell  into  the  galleys  in  your  service,  where,  for 
two  years  together,  I  wore  two  towels  instead  of  a  shirt," 
with  a  knot  on  the  shoulder,  after  the  fashion  of  a 
Roman  mantle.  Slighted  thus  !  I  will  thrive  some  way : 
blackbirds  "fatten  best  in  hard  weather ;  why  not  I  in 
these  dog-days  ?  40 

Card.   Would  you  could  become  honest ! 

Bos.  With  all  your  divinity  do  but  direct  me  the  way 
to  it.  I  have  known  many  travel  far  for  it,  and  yet 
return  as  arrant  knaves  as  they  went  forth,  because  they 
carried  themselves  always  along  with  them. 

[Exit  Cardinal. 

Are  you  gone  ?  Some  fellows,  they  say,  are  possessed 
with  the  devil,  but  this  great  fellow  were  able  to  possess 
the  greatest  devil,  and  make  him  worse. 

Ant.   He  hath  denied  thee  some  suit  ?  49 

Bos.  He  and  his  brother  are  like  plum-trees  that  grow 
crooked  over  standing-pools ;  they  are  rich,  and  o'erladen 
with  fruit,  but  none  but  crows,  pies,  and  caterpillars  feed 
on  them.  Could  I  be  one  of  their  flattering  panders,  I 
would  hang  on  their  ears  like  a  horseleech,  till  I  were 
full,  and  then  drop  ofT.  I  pray  leave  me.  Who  would 
rely  upon  these  miserable  dependencies,  in  expectation  to 
be  advanced  to-morrow  ?     What  creature  ever  fed  worse, 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  145 

than  hoping  Tantalus  ?  nor  ever  died  any  man  more 
fearfully,  than  he  that  hoped  for  a  pardon.  There  are 
rewards  for  hawks  and  dogs,  when  they  have  done  us 
service :  but  for  a  soldier  that  hazards  his  limbs  in  a 
battle,  nothing  but  a  kind  of  geometry  is  his  last  sup- 
portation."  63 

Delio.   Geometry ! 

Bos.  Aye,  to  hang  in  a  fair  pair  of  slings,  take  his 
latter  swing  in  the  world  upon  an  honourable  pair  of 
crutches,  from  hospital  to  hospital.  Fare  ye  well,  sir : 
and  yet  do  not  you  scorn  us,  for  places  in  the  court  are 
but  like  beds  in  the  hospital,  where  this  man's  head  lies 
at  that  man's  foot,  and  so  lower  and  lower.         [Exit. 

Delio.   I  knew  this  fellow  seven  years  in  the  galleys  71 
For  a  notorious  murder ;  and  'twas  thought 
The  Cardinal  suborned  it :  he  was  released 
By  the  French  general,  Gaston  de  Foix, 
When  he  recovered  Naples. 

Ant.  'Tis  great  pity, 

He  should  be  thus  neglected :  I  have  heard 
He's  very  valiant.     This  foul  melancholy 
Will  poison  all  his  goodness ;  for,  I'll  tell  you, 
If  too  unmoderate  sleep  be  truly  said 
To  be  an  inward  rust  unto  the  soul,  80 

It  then  doth  follow  want  of  action 
Breeds  all  black  malcontents,  and  their  close  rearing. 
Like  moths  in  cloth,  do  hurt  for  want  of  wearing. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  11° 

Enter  Antonio,  Delio,  Ferdinand,  Castruccio, 
•     Silvio,  Roderigo,  Grisolan 

Delio.   The  presence  'gins  to  fill :  you  promised  me 
To  make  me  the  partaker  of  the  natures 
Of  some  of  your  great  courtiers. 

Ant.  The  lord  Cardinal's, 

WEBSTER   AND   TOURNEUR lO 


146  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  i 

And  other  strangers,  that  are  now  in  court  ? 
I  shall :  here  comes  the  great  Calabrian  Duke. 

Ferd.   Who  took  the  ring  oftenest  ?  ° 

Silvio.   Antonio  Bologna,  my  lord. 

Ferd.  Our  sister  Duchess'  great  master  of  her  house- 
hold :  give  him  the  jewel.  When  shall  we  leave  this 
sportive  action,  and  fall  to  action  indeed?  10 

Cast.  Methinks,  my  lord,  you  should  not  desire  to  go 
to  war  in  person. 

Ferd.   Now,  for  some  gravity: — why,  my  lord  ? 

Cast.  It  is  fitting  a  soldier  arise  to  be  a  prince,  but 
not  necessary  a  prince  descend  to  be  a  captain. 

Ferd.   No? 

Cast.  No,  my  lord,  he  were  far  better  do  it  by  a 
deputy. 

Ferd.  Why  should  he  not  as  well  sleep,  or  eat  by  a 
deputy  ?  This  might  take  idle,  offensive,  and  base  office 
from  him,  whereas  the  other  deprives  him  of  honour.    21 

Cast.  Believe  my  experience :  that  realm  is  never 
long  in  quiet,  where  the  ruler  is  a  soldier. 

Ferd.  Thou  toldest  me  thy  wife  could  not  endure 
fighting. 

Cast.   True,  my  lord. 

Ferd.  And  of  a  jest  she  broke  of  a  captain  she  met  full 
of  wounds :  I  have  forgot  it. 

Cast.  She  told  him,  my  lord,  he  was  a  pitiful  fellow, 
to  he  like  the  children  of  Ismael,  all  in  tents."  30 

Ferd.  Why,  there's  a  wit  were  able  to  undo  all  the 
chirurgeons  o'  th'  city,  for  although  gallants  should 
quarrel,  and  had  drawn  their  weapons,  and  were  ready 
to  go  to  it,  yet  her  persuasions  would  make  them  put  up. 

Cast.  That  she  would,  my  lord.  How  do  you  like  my 
Spanish  gennct  ? 

Rod.   He  is  all  fire. 

Ferd.  I  am  of  Pliny's  opinion,  I  think  he  was  begot 
by  the  wind ;  he  runs  as  if  he  were  ballassed  with  quick- 
silver. 40 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  147 

Silvio.   True,  my  lord,  he  reels  from  the  tilt  often. 

Rod.  Gris.   Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Ferd.  Why  do  you  laugh?  methinks  you  that  are 
courtiers  should  be  my  touchwood,  take  fire  when  I  give 
fire ;  that  is,  not  laugh  but  when  I  laugh,  were  the  sub- 
ject never  so  witty. 

Cast.  True,  my  lord ;  I  myself  have  heard  a  very  good 
jest,  and  have  scorned  to  seem  to  have  so  silly  a  wit, 
as  to  understand  it. 

Ferd.   But  I  can  laugh  at  your  fool,"  my  lord.  50 

Cast.  He  cannot  speak,  you  know,  but  he  makes  faces : 
my  lady  cannot  abide  him. 

Ferd.   No? 

Cast.  Nor  endure  to  be  in  merry  company;  for  she 
says  too  much  laughing,  and  too  much  company,  fills  her 
too  full  of  the  wrinkle. 

Ferd.  I  would  then  have  a  mathematical  instrument 
made  for  her  face,  that  she  might  not  laugh  out  of  com- 
pass.    I  shall  shortly  visit  you  at  Milan,  lord  Silvio. 

Silvio.   Your  grace  shall  arrive  most  welcome.  60 

Ferd.  You  are  a  good  horseman,  Antonio :  you  have 
excellent  riders  in  France :  what  do  you  think  of  good 
horsemanship  ? 

Ant.  Nobly,  my  lord:  as  out  of  the  Grecian  horse 
issued  many  famous  princes,  so  out  of  brave  horseman- 
ship arise  the  first  sparks  of  growing  resolution,  that  raise 
the  mind  to  noble  action. 

Ferd.   You  have  bespoke  it  worthily. 

Silvio.  Your  brother,  the  lord  Cardinal,  and  sister 
Duchess.  70 

Enter  Cardinal,  Duchess,  Cariola,  and  Julia 

Card.   Are  the  galleys  come  about  ? 
Gris.  They  are,  my  lord. 

Ferd.   Here's  the  lord  Silvio  is  come  to  take  his  leave. 
Delia.   Now,  sir,  your  promise :  "  what's  that  Cardinal  ? 


148  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  i 

I  mean  his  temper  ?  they  say  he's  a  brave  fellow, 

Will  play  his  five  thousand  crowns  at  tennis,'*  dance,     75 

Court  ladies,  and  one  that  hath  fought  single  combats. 

Ant.  Some  such  flashes  superficially  hang  on  him,  for 
form,  but  observe  his  inward  character :  he  is  a  melan- 
choly churchman.  The  spring  in  his  face  is  nothing  but 
the  engendering  of  toads;''  where  he  is  jealous  of  any 
man,  he  lays  worse  plots  for  him  than  ever  was  imposed 
on  Hercules,  for  he  strews  in  his  way  flatterers,  panders, 
intelligencers,  atheists,  and  a  thousand  such  political 
monsters. °  ffe_should  have  been  Pope,  but  instead  of 
coming  to  it  by  the  primitive  decency  of  the  church, 
he  did  bestow  bribes  so  largely,  and  so  impudently,  as 
if  he  would  have  carried  it  away  without  heaven's 
knowledge.     Some  good  he  hath  done  — 

Delio.   You  have  given  too  much  of  him:    what's  his 
brother  ? 

Ant.   The  duke  there  ?  a  most  perverse  and  turbulent 
nature :  9° 

What  appears  in  him  mirth  is  merely  outside ; 
If  he  laugh  heartily,  it  is  to  laugh 
All  honesty  out  of  fashion. 

Delio.  Twins  ? 

Ant.  In  quality. 

He  speaks  with  others'  tongues,  and  hears  men's  suits 
With  others'  ears ;  will  seem  to  sleep  o'  th'  bench 
Only  to  entrap  offenders  in  their  answers ; 
Dooms  men  to  death  by  information," 
Rewards  by  hearsay. 

/     Delio.  Then  the  law  to  him 

Is  like  a  foul  black  cobweb  to  a  spider. 
He  makes  it  his  dwelling  and  a  prison  100 

To  entangle  those  shall  feed  him. 

Ant.  Most  true: 

He  never  pays  debts  unless  they  be  shrewd  turns," 
And  those  he  will  confess  that  he  doth  owe. 
Last,  for  his  brother  there,  the  Cardinal, 


SCENE  ii]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  I49 

They  that  do  flatter  him  most  say  oracles 

Hang  at  his  Hps ;  and  verily  I  believe  them, 

For  the  devil  speaks  in  them. 

But  for  their  sister,  the  right  noble  duchess, 

You  never  fixed  your  eye  on  three  fair  medals 

Cast  in  one  figure,"  of  so  different  temper.  no 

For  her  discourse,  it  is  so  full  of  rapture. 

You  only  will  begin  then  to  be  sorry 

When  she  doth  end  her  speech,  and  wish,  in  wonder, 

She  held  it  less  vainglory,  to  talk  much, 

Than  your  penance  to  hear  her :  whilst  she  speaks, 

She  throws  upon  a  man  so  sweet  a  look, 

That  it  were  able  to  raise  one  to  a  galliard 

That  lay  in  a  dead  palsy,  and  to  dote 

On  that  sweet  countenance ;  but  in  that  look 

There  speaketh  so  divine  a  continence,  120 

As  cuts  off  all  lascivious  and  vain  hope. 

Her  days  are  practised  in  such  noble  virtue, 

That  sure  her  nights,  nay  more,  her  very  sleeps. 

Are  more  in  heaven,  than  other  ladies'  shrifts. 

Let  all  sweet  ladies  break  their  flattering  glasses, 

And  dress  themselves  in  her. 

Delio.  Fie,  Antonio, 

You  play  the  wire-drawer  with  her  commendations." 

Ant.   I'll  case  the  picture  up  :   only  thus  much  ; 
All  her  particular  worth  grows  to  this  sum ; 
She  stains  the  time  past,  Hghts  the  time  to  come.  130 

Cari.   You  must  attend  my  lady  in  the  gallery, 
Some  half  an  hour  hence. 

Ant.  I  shall. 

[Exeunt  Antonio  and  Delio. 

Ferd.   Sister,  I  have  a  suit  to  you. 

Duch.  To  me,  sir  ? 

Ferd.   A  gentleman  here,  Daniel  de  Bosola, 
One  that  was  in  the  galleys  — 

Duch.  Yes,  I  know  him. 

Ferd.   A  worthy  fellow  h'is :    pray  let  me  entreat  for 


I50  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  I 

The  provisorship  of  your  horse. 

Duch.  Your  knowledge  of  him 

Commends  him  and  prefers  him. 

Ferd.  Call  him  hither.  [Exit  Attendant. 

We  are  now  upon  parting.  —  Good  lord  Silvio, 
Do  us  commend  to  all  our  noble   friends  140 

At  the  leaguer. 

Silvio.  Sir,  I  shall. 

Ferd.  You  are  for  Milan  ? 

Silvio.   I  am. 

Duch.  Bring  the  caroches :  we'll  bring  you  down 

To  the  haven. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  the  Cardinal  and  Ferdinand. 

Card.  Be  sure  you  entertain  that  Bosola 

For  your  intelligence :  I  would  not  be  seen  in't ; 
And  therefore  many  times  I  have  slighted  him, 
When  he  did  court  our  furtherance,  as  this  morning. 

Ferd.   Antonio,   the   great   master   of  her   household, 
Had  been  far  fitter. 

Card.  You  are  deceived  in  him : 

His  nature  is  too  honest  for  such  business. 
He  comes :  I'll  leave  you.  [Exit. 

Enter  Bosola 

Bos.  I  was  lured  to  you. 

Ferd.   My  brother  here,  the  Cardinal,  could  never  151 
Abide  you. 

Bos.  Never  since  he  was  in  my  debt. 

Ferd.   May  be  some  oblique  character  in  your  face 
Made  him  suspect  you. 

Bos.  Doth  he  study  physiognomy  ? 

There's  no  more  credit  to  be  given  to  th'  face, 
Than  to  a  sick  man's  urine,  which  some  call 
The  physician's  whore,  because  she  cozens  him. 
He  did  suspect  me  wrongfully. 

Ferd,  For  that 


SCENE  iij  THE   DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  15 1 

You  must  give  great  men  leave  to  take  their  times. 
Distrust  doth  cause  us  sel  lom  be  deceived :  i6o 

You  see,  the  oft  shaking  of  the  cedar-tree 
Fastens  it  more  at  root. 

Bos.  Yet,  take  heed ; 

For  to  suspect  a  friend  un-vorthily, 
Instructs  him  the  next  way  to  suspect  you, 
And  prompts  him  to  deceive  you. 

Ferd.  There's  gold. 

Bos.  So, 

What  follows  ?  naver  rained  such  showers  as  these 
Without  thunderbolts  i'  th'  tail  of  lY  em :   whose  throat 
must  I  cut  ? 

Ferd.  \'our  inclination  to  shed  blood  rides  post 
Before  my  occasion  to  use  you.  I  give  you  that 
To  Hve  i'  th'  court  here,  and  observe  the  duchess ;  170 

To  note  all  the  particulars  of  her  'haviour, 
What  suitors  do  solicit  her  for  marriage, 
And  whom  she  best  affects.     She's  a  young  widow : 
I  would  not  have  her  marry  again. 

Bos.  No,  sir? 

Ferd.   Do  not  you  ask  the  reason ;  but  be  satisfied 
I  say  I  would  not. 

Bos.  It  seems  you  would  create  me 

One  of  your  familiars. 

Ferd.  Familiar  !    what's  that  ? 

Bos.   Why,  a  very  quaint  invisible  devil  in  flesh ; 
An  intelligencer. 

Ferd.  Such  a  kind  of  thriving  thing 

I  would  wish  thee ;  and  ere  long,  thou  may'st  arrive    180 
At  a  higher  place  by't. 

Bos.  Take  your  devils. 

Which  hell  calls  angels :  these  cursed  gifts  would  make 
You  a  corrupter,  me  an  impudent  traitor ; 
And  should  I  take  these,  they'd  take  me  to  hell. 

Ferd.   Sir,  I'll  take  nothing  from  you,  that  I  have 
given : 


152  THE    DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  [act  i 

There  is  a  place  that  I  procured  for  you 
This  morning,  the  provisorship  o'  th'  horse ; 
Have  you  heard  on't  ? 

Bos.  No. 

Ferd.  'Tis  yours :  is't  not  worth  thanks  ? 

Bos.   I  would  have  you  curse  yourself  now,  that  your 
bounty 
(Which  makes  men  truly  noble) 'e'er  should  make        190 
Me  a  villain.     O,  that  to  avoid  ingratitude 
For  the  good  deed  you  have  done  me,  I  must  do 
All  the  ill  man  can  invent !     Thus  the  devil 
Candies'  all  sins  o'er ;  and  what  heaven  terms  vile 
That  names  he  complimental. 

Ferd.  Be  yourself ; 

Keep  your  old  garb  of  melancholy ;   'twill  express 
You  envy  those  that  stand  above  your  reach, 
Yet  strive  not  to  come  near  'em :  this  will  gain 
Access  to  private  lodgings,  where  yourself 
May,  like  a  politic  dormouse  — 

Bos.  As  I  have  seen  some. 

Feed  in  a  lord's  dish,  half  asleep,  not  seeming  201 

To  Ksten  to  any  talk ;  and  yet  these  rogues 
Have  cut  his  throat  in  a  dream.     What's  my  place  ? 
The  provisorship  o'  th'  horse  ?  say,  then,  my  corruption 
Grew  out  of  horse-dung :  ^  I  am  your  creature. 

Ferd.  Away! 

Bos.   Let  good  men,  for  good  deeds,  covet  good  fame, 
Since  place  and  riches,  oft  are  bribes  of  shame : 
Sometimes  the  devil  doth  preach.  [Exit. 

Enter  Duchess,  Cardinal,  and  Cariola 

Card.   We  are  to  part  from  you ;    and  your  own  dis- 
cretion 
Must  now  be  your  director. 

Ferd.  You  are  a  widow :  210 

You  know  already  what  man  is ;  and  therefore 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  153 

Let  not  youth,  high  promotion,  eloquence  — 

Card.   No,  nor  anything  without  the  addition,  honour, 
Sway  your  high  blood. 

Ferd.  Marry  !   they  are  most  kixurious, 

Will  wed  twice. 

Card.  O,  fie  ! 

Ferd.  '  Their  livers  are  more  spotted 

Than  Laban's  sheep." 

Duch.  Diamonds  are  of  most  value, 

They  say,  that  have  passed  through  most  jewellers'  hands. 

Ferd.   Whores,  by  that  rule,  are  precious. 

Duch.  Will  you  hear  me  ? 

I'll  never  marry. 

Card.  So  most  widows  say ; 

But  commonly  that  motion"  lasts  no  longer  220 

Than  the  turning  of  an  hour-glass:    the  funeral  sermon 
And  it,  end  both  together. 

Ferd.  Now  hear  me : 

You  live  in  a  rank  pasture  here,  i'  th'  court ; 
There  is  a  kind  of  honey-dew  that's  deadly ; 
'Twill  poison  your  fame ;   look  to't :  be  not  cunning ; 
For  they  whose  faces  do  belie  their  hearts. 
Are  witches  ere  they  arrive  at  twenty  years, 
Aye,  and  give  the  devil  suck. 

Duch.   This  is  terrible  good  counsel. 

Ferd.   Hypocrisy  is  woven  of  a  fine  small  thread,      230 
Subtler  than  Vulcan's  engine :  °  yet,  beUev't, 
Your  darkest  actions,  nay,  your  privat'st  thoughts. 
Will  come  to  Hght. 

Card.  You  may  flatter  yourself. 

And  take  your  own  choice ;  privately  be  married 
Under  the  eaves  of  night  — 

Ferd.  Think't  the  best  voyage 

That  e'er  you  made ;  like  the  irregular  crab, 
Which,  though't  goes  backward,  thinks  that  it  goes  right, 
Because  it  goes  its  own  way :  but  observe. 
Such  weddings  may  more  properly  be  said 


154  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  I 

To  be  executed,  than  celebrated. 

Card.  The  marriage  night    240 

Is  the  entrance  into  some  prison. 

Ferd.  And  those  joys, 

Those  lustful  pleasures,  are  like  heavy  sleeps 
Which  do  forerun  man's  mischief. 

Card.  Fare  you  well. 

Wisdom  begins  at  the  end :    remember  it.  [Exit. 

Duck.   I  think  this  speech  between  you  both  was  studied, 
It  came  so  roundly  off. 

Ferd.  You  are  my  sister ; 

This  was  my  father's  poniard,  do  you  see  ? 
I'd  be  loath  to  see't  look  rusty,  'cause  'twas  his. 
I  would  have  you  to  give  o'er  these  chargeable  revels, 
A  visor  and  a  mask  are  whispering  rooms  250 

That  were  never  built  for  goodness ;  —  fare  ye  well, 
And  women  like  that  part  which,  like  the  lamprey, 
Hath  never  a  bone  in't. 

Duch.  Fie,  sir! 

Ferd.  Nay, 

I  mean  the  tongue ;  variety  of  courtship : 
What  cannot  a  neat  knave  with  a  smooth  tale 
Make  a  woman  believe  ?  Farewell,  lusty  widow.       [Exit. 

Duch.   Shall  this  move  me?     If  all  my  royal  kindred 
Lay  in  my  way  unto  this  marriage, 
I'd  make  them  my  low  footsteps :  and  even  now, 
Even  in  this  hate,  as  men  in  some  great  battles,  260 

By  apprehending  danger,  have  achieved 
Almost  impossible  actions,  —  I  have  heard  soldiers  say 

so,  — 
So  I  through  frights  and  threatenings  will  assay 
This  dangerous  venture.     Let  old  wives  report 
Ijvinked"  and  chose  a  husband.     Cariola, 
To  thy  known  secrecy  I  have  given  up 
More  than  my  Ufe  —  my  fame. 

Cari.  Both  shall  be  safe : 

For  I'll  conceal  this  secret  from  the  world. 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  1 55 

As  warily  as  those  that  trade  inj)oison 
Keep  poison  from  their  children. 

Duch.  Thy  protestation     270 

Is  ingenious  and  hearty :  I  beheve  it. 
Is  Antonio  come  ? 

Cari.  He  attends  you. 

Duch.  Good  dear  soul, 

Leave  me ;   but  place  thyself  behind  the  arras, 
Where  thou  may'st  overhear  us.     Wish  me  good  speed, 
For  I  am  going  into  a  wilderness 
Where  I  shall  find  nor  path,  nor  friendly  clue, 
To  be  my  guide.  [Exit  Cariola. 

Enter  Antonio 

I  sent  for  you :  sit  down ; 
Take  pen  and  ink,  and  write :  are  you  ready  ? 

Ant.  Yes, 

Duch.   What  did  I  say  ? 

Ant.   That  I  should  write  somewhat. 

Duch.  0,  I  remember. 

After  this  triumph  and  this  large  expense,  281 

It's  fit,  Hke  thrifty  husbands,  we  inquire 
What's  laid  up  for  to-morrow. 

Ant.   So  please  your  beauteous  excellence. 

Duch.  Beauteous ! 

Indeed  I  thank  you :  I  look  young  for  your  sake ; 
You  have  ta'en  my  cares  upon  you. 

Ant.  I'll  fetch  your  grace 

The  particulars  of  your  revenue  and  expense. 

Diich.  O,  you  are  an  upright  treasurer;  but  you  mistook: 
For  when  I  said  I  meant  to  make  inquiry 
What's  laid  up  for  to-morrow,  I  did  me?n  290 

What's  laid  up  yonder  for  me. 

Ant.  Where? 

Duch.  In  Heaven. 

I  am  making  my  w^ill  (as  'tis  fit  princes  should, 


156  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  I 

In  perfect  memory),  and,  I  pray,  sir,  tell  me 
Were  not  one  better  make  it  smiling,  thus. 
Than  in  deep  groans,  and  terrible  ghastly  looks, 
As  if  the  gifts  we  parted  with  procured 
That  \'iolent  distraction  ? 

Ant.  O,  much  better. 

Duch.   If  I  had  a  husband  now,  this  care  were  quit : 
But  I  intend  to  make  you  overseer. 
What  good  deed  shall  we  first  remember  ?   say.  3°° 

Ant.   Begin  with  that  first  good  deed  begun  i'  th'  world 
After  man's  creation,  the  sacrament  of  marriage : 
I'd  have  you  first  provide  for  a  good  husband ; 
Give  him  all. 

Duch.  All  ? 

Ant.  Yes,  your  excellent  self. 

Duch.   In  a  winding  sheet  ? 

Ant.  In  a  couple. 

Duch.    St.  Winifred,  that  were  a  strange  will ! 

Ant.    'Twere  strange  if  there  were  no  will  in  you 
To  marry  again. 

Duch.  What  do  you  think  of  marriage  ? 

Ant.   I  take't,  as  those  that  deny  purgatory, 
It  locally  contains,  or  heaven,  or  hell,  31° 

There's  no  third  place  in't. 

Duch.  How  do  you  affect  it  ? 

Ant.   My  banishment,  feeding  my  melancholy, 
Would  often  reason  thus. 

Duch.  Pray  let's  hear  it. 

Ant.   Say  a  man  never  marry,  nor  have  children, 
What  takes  that  from  him  ?    only  the  bare  name 
Of  being  a  father,  or  the  weak  delight 
To  see  the  little  wanton  ride  a  cock-horse 
Upon  a  painted  stick,  or  hear  him  chatter 
Like  a  taught  starling. 

Duch.  Fie,  fie,  what's  all  this  ? 

One  of  your  eyes  is  bloodshot ;  use  my  ring  to't,  320 

They  say  'tis  very  sovereign : "   'twas  my  wedding  ring 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  1 57 

And  I  did  vow  never  to  part  with  it 
But  to  my  second  husband. 

Ant.   You  have  parted  with  it  now. 

Duch.  Yes,  to  help  your  eyesight. 

Ant.   You  have  made  me  stark  bUnd. 

Duch.  How  ? 

Ant.   There  is  a  saucy  and  ambitious  devil, 
Is  dancing  in  this  circle. 

Duch.  Remove  him. 

Ant.  How? 

Duck.   There   needs   small    conjuration,    when    your 
finger 
May  do  it ;  thus ;  is  it  fit  ? 

Ant.  What  said  you  ?     [lie  kneels. 

Duch.  Sir,         330 

This  goodly  roof  of  yours,"  is  too  low  built ; 
I  cannot  stand  upright  in't  nor  discourse, 
Without  I  raise  it  liigher :  raise  yourself ; 
Or,  if  you  please,  my  hand  to  help  you :  so. 

Ant.   Ambition,  madam,  is  a  great  man's  madness, 
That  is  not  kept  in  chains,  and  close-pent  rooms. 
But  in  fair  lightsome  lodgings,  and  is  girt 
With  the  wild  noise  of  prattling  visitants, 
Which  makes  it  lunatic  beyond  all  cure. 
Conceive  not  I  am  so  stupid  but  I  aim  340 

Whereto  your  favours  tend:  but  he's  a  fool. 
That  being  a-cold,  would  thrust  his  hands  i'  th'  fire 
To  warm  them. 

Duch.  So  now  the  ground's  broke, 

You  may  discover  what  a  wealthy  mine 
I  make  you  lord  of. 

Ant.  O  my  unworthiness  ! 

Duch.   You  were  ill  to  sell  yourself : 
This  darkening  of  your  worth"  is  not  like  that 
Which  tradesmen  use  i'  th'  city ;  their  false  lights 
Are  to  rid  bad  wares  off :  and  I  must  tell  you, 
If  you  will  know  where  breathes  a  complete  man         350 


158  THE  DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  i 

(I  speak  it  without  flattery),  turn  your  eyes, 
And  progress  through  yourself. 

Ant.    Were  there  nor  heaven  nor  hell, 
I  should  be  honest :  I  have  long  served  virtue, 
And  ne'er  ta'en  wages  of  her. 

Duch.  Now  she  pays  it. 

The  misery  of  us  that  are  born  great ! 
We  are  forced  to  woo,  because  none  dare  woo  us ; 
And  as  a  tyrant  doubles  with  his  words, 
And  fearfully  equivocates,  so  we 

Are  forced  to  express  our  violent  passions  360 

In  riddles,  and  in  dreams,  and  leave  the  path 
Of  simple  virtue,  which  was  never  made 
To  seem  the  thing  it  is  not.     Go,  go  brag 
You  have  left  me  heartless  ;  mine  is  in  your  bosom : 
I  hope  'twill  multiply  love  there.     You  do  tremble : 
Make  not  your  heart  so  dead  a  piece  of  flesh. 
To  fear,  more  than  to  love  me.     Sir,  be  confident : 
What  is't  distracts  you  ?     This  is  flesh  and  blood,  sir ; 
'Tis  not  the  figure  cut  in  alabaster, 
Kneels  at  my  husband's  tomb.     Awake,  awake,  man  ! 
I  do  here  put  off  all  vain  ceremony,  371 

And  only  do  appear  to  you  a  young  widow 
That  claims  you  for  her  husband,  and  Hke  a  widow, 
I  use  but  half  a  blush  in't. 

Ant.  Truth  speak  for  me : 

I  will  remain  the  constant  sanctuary 
Of  your  good  name. 

Duch.  I  thank  you,  gentle  love : 

And  'cause  you  shall  not  come  to  me  in  debt, 
Being  now  my  steward,  here  upon  your  lips 
I  sign  your  Quietus  est.^    This  you  should  have  begged 

now; 
I  have  seen  children  oft  eat  sweetmeats  thus,  380 

As  fearful  to  devour  them  too  soon. 

Ant.    But  for  your  brothers  ? 

Diich.  Do  not  think  of  them  : 


sciCNR  II]  THE   DUCHESS    OF    MALFl  1 59 

All  discord  without  this  circumference 
Is  only  to  be  pitied,  and  not  feared : 
Yet,  should  they  know  it,  time  will  easily 
Scatter  the  tempest. 

A  III.  These  words  should  be  mine, 

And  all  the  parts  you  have  spoke,  if  some  part  of  it 
Would  not  have  savoured  flattery. 

Duch.  Kneel. 


Enter  Cariola 

AnL  Ha ! 

Duch.   Be  not  amazed,  this  woman's  of  my  counsel : 
I  have  heard  lawyers  say,  a  contract  in  a  chamber      39° 
Per  verba  presenti  °  is  absolute  marriage. 
Bless,  heaven,  this  sacred  gordian,  which  let  violence 
Never  untwine  ! 

Ant.   And  may  our  sweet  affections,  like  the  spheres, 
Be  still  in  motion. 

Duch.  Quickening,  and  make 

The  like  soft  music. 

Ant.   That  we  may  imitate  the  loving  palms, 
Best  emblem  of  a  peaceful  marriage 
That  never  bore  fruit  divdded. 

Duch.   WhaLcan  the  church  force  more  ?  400 

Ant.   That  fortune  may  naTkliowairaccident 
Either  of  joy,  or  sorrow,  to  divide 
Our  fixed  wishes! 

Duch.  How  can  the  church  build  faster  ? 

We  now  are  man  and  wife,  and*  'tis  the  church   /^u^^_ 
That  must  but  echo  this.     Maid,  stan3^  aparTT  i^ITk^^A 
I  now  am  blind.  ^ 

Ant.  What's  your  conceit  in  this? 

Duch.   I  would  have  you  lead  your  fortune  by  the 
hand 
Unto  your  marriage  bed : 
(You  speak  in  me  this,  for  we  now  are  one :) 


l6o  THE   DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  I 

We'll  only  lie,  and  talk  together,  and  plot  410 

T'  appease  my  humorous  kindred ;  and  if  you  please, 

Like  the  old  tale  in  Alexander  and  Lodowick," 

Lay  a  naked  sword  between  us,  keep  us  chaste. 

O,  let  me  shroud  my  blushes  in  your  bosom, 

Since  'tis  the  treasury  of  all  my  secrets  !  [Exeunt. 

Carl.   Whether  the  spirit  of  greatness,  or  of  woman 
Reign  most  in  her,  I  know  not ;   but  it  shows 
A  fearful  madness :   I  owe  her  much  of  pity.  [Exit. 


ACT  THE   SECOND 
Scene  I° 
Enter  Bosola  and  Castruccio 

Bos.  You  say,  you  would  fain  be  taken  for  an  eminent 
courtier  ? 

Cast.    'Tis  the  very  main  of  my  ambition. 

Bos.  Let  me  see :  you  have  a  reasonable  good  face 
for't  already,  and  your  night-cap  expresses  your  ears 
sufficient  largely.  I  would  have  you  learn  to  twirl  the 
strings  of  your  band  with  a  good  grace,  and  in  a  set 
speech,  at  th'  end  of  every  sentence,  to  hum  three  or 
four  times,  or  blow  your  nose  till  it  smart  again,  to 
recover  your  memory.  When  you  come  to  be  a  president 
in  criminal  causes,  if  you  smile  upon  a  prisoner,  hang 
him;  but  if  you  frown  upon  him,  and  threaten  him,  let 
him  be  sure  to  scape  the  gallows.  13 

Cast.   I  would  be  a  very  merry  president. 

Bos.  Do  not  sup  a'  nights ;  'twill  beget  you  an  admir- 
able wit. 

Cast.  Rather  it  would  make  me  have  a  good  stomach 
to  quarrel ;  for  they  say,  your  roaring  boys  °  eat  meat 
seldom,  and  that  makes  them  so  valiant.  But  how  shall 
I  know  whether  the  people  take  me  for  an  eminent 
fellow  ?  2 1 

Bos.  I  will  teach  a  trick  to  know  it :  give  out  you  lie 
a-dying,  and  if  you  hear  the  common  people  curse  you, 
be  sure  you  are  taken  for  one  of  the  prime  night-caps." 

Enter  an  Old  Lady 
You  come  from  painting-  now  ? 
Old  Lady.    From  what  ? 

WEBSTER  AND  TOURNEUR II  l6l 


l62  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  [act  il 

Bos.  Why,  from  your  scurvy  face-physic."  To  behold 
thee  not  painted,  inclines  somewhat  near  a  miracle: 
these  in  thy  face  here,  were  deep  ruts,  and  foul  sloughs, 
the  last  progress.  There  was  a  lady  in  France,  that 
having  had  the  smallpox,  flayed  the  skin  off  her  face,  to 
make  it  more  level ;  and  whereas  before  she  looked  like  a 
nutmeg-grater,  after  she  resembled  an  abortive  hedgehog. 

Old  Lady.    Do  you  call  this  painting  ?  34 

Bos.  No,  no,  but  you  call't  careening  of  an  old  mor- 
phewed  lady,  to  make  her  disembogue  again :  there's 
rough-cast  phrase  to  your  plastic. 

Old  Lady.   It  seems  you  are  well  acquainted  with  my 

closet.  39 

Bos.  One  would  suspect  it  for  a  shop  of  witchcraft, 
to  find  in  it  the  fat  of  serpents,  spawn  of  snakes,  Jews' 
spittle,  and  their  young  children's  ordure ;  ^  and  all  these 
for  the  face.  I  would  sooner  eat  a  dead  pigeon,"  taken 
from  the  soles  of  the  feet  of  one  sick  of  the  plague,  than 
kiss  one  of  you  fasting.  Here  are  two  of  you,  whose  sin 
of  your  youth  is  the  very  patrimony  of  the  physician ; 
makes  him  renew  his  foot-cloth  with  the  spring,  and 
change  his  high-prized  courtesan  with  the  fall  of  the  leaf. 
I  do  wonder  you  do  not  loathe  yourselves.  Observe  my 
meditation  now.  5° 

What  thing  is  in  this  outward  form  of  man 
To  be  beloved  ?    We  account  it  ominous. 
If  nature  do  produce  a  colt,  or  lamb, 
A  fawn,  or  goat,  in  any  limb  resembling 
A  man,  and  fly  from't  as  a  prodigy. 
Man  stands  amazed  to  see  his  deformity 
In  any  other  creature  but  himself. 
But  in  our  own  flesh,  though  we  bear  diseases 
Which  have  their  true  names  only  ta'en  from  beasts, 
As  the  most  ulcerous  wolf  and  swinish  measle,  6o 

Though  wc  are  eaten  up  of  lice  and  worms, 
And  though  continually  we  bear  about  us 
A  rotten  and  dead  body,  we  delight 


SCENE  I]  THE   DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  1 63 

To  hide  it  in  rich  tissue ;  ail  our  fear, 

Nay  all  our  terror,  is,  lest  our  physician 

Should  put  us  in  the  ground,  to  be  made  sweet. 

Your  wife's  gone  to  Rome :  you  two  couple,  and  get  you 

To  the  wells  at  Lucca,"  to  recover  your  aches. 

I  have  other  work  on  foot.     I  observe  our  duchess 

[Exeunt  Castruccio  and  the  Old  Lady. 
Is  sick  a-days,  she  pukes,  her  stomach  seethes,  70 

The  fins  of  her  eyelids  look  most  teeming  blue, 
She  wanes  i'  th'  cheek,  and  waxes  fat  i'  th'  flank. 
And,  contrary  to  our  Italian  fashion. 
Wears  a  loose-bodied  gown ;   there's  something  in't. 
I  have  a  trick  may  chance  discover  it, 
A  pretty  one :  I  have  bought  some  apricocks," 
The  first  our  spring  yields  — 

Enter  Antonio  and  Delio 

Delia.  And  so  long  since  married  ! 

You  amaze  me. 

A  nt.  Let  me  seal  your  lips  for  ever : 

For  did  I  think,  that  anything  but  th'  air 
Could  carry  these  words  from  you,  I  should  wish         80 
You  had  no  breath  at  all.  —  Now,  sir,  in  your  contem- 
plation ? 
You  are  studying  to  become  a  great  wise  fellow. 

Bos.  O,  sir,  the  opinion  of  wisdom,  is  a  foul  tetter, 
that  runs  all  over  a  man's  body :  if  simplicity  direct  us 
to  have  no  evil,  it  directs  us  to  a  happy  being :  for  the 
subtlest  folly  proceeds  from  the  subtlest  wisdom :  let  me 
be  simply  honest. 

Ant.   I  do  understand  your  inside. 

Bos.  Do  you  so  ? 

Ant.   Because  you  would  not  seem  to  appear  to  th' 
world 
Puffed  up  with  your  preferment,  you  continue  9° 

This  out-of-fashion  melancholy :  leave  it,  leave  it. 


l64  THE    DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  [act  ll 

Bos.  Give  me  leave  to  be  honest  in  any  phrase,  in  any 
compliment  whatsoever.  Shall  I  confess  myself  to  you  ? 
I  look  no  higher  than  I  can  reach :  they  are  the  gods 
that  must  ride  on  winged  horses.  A  lawyer's  mule,  of  a 
slow  pace,  will  both  suit  my  disposition  and  business : 
for,  mark  me,  when  a  man's  mind  rides  faster  than  his 
horse  can  gallop,  they  quickly  both  tire. 

Ant.   You  would  look  up  to  heaven,  but  I  think 
The  devil,  that  rules  i'  th'  air,  stands  in  your  light.      loo 

Bos.  O,  sir,  you  are  lord  of  the  ascendant,"  chief  man 
with  the  duchess;  a  duke  was  your  cousin-german 
removed.  Say  you  were  lineally  descended  from  King 
Pepin,  or  he  himself,  what  of  this  ?  search  the  heads  of 
the  greatest  rivers  in  the  world,  you  shall  find  them  but 
bubbles  of  water.  Some  would  think  the  souls  of  princes 
were  brought  forth  by  some  more  weighty  cause,  than 
those  of  meaner  persons:  they  are  deceived,  there's  the 
same  hand  to  them ;  the  like  passions  sway  them ; 
the  same  reason  that  makes  a  vicar  go  to  law  for  a 
tithe-pig,  and  undo  his  neighbours,  makes  them  spoil 
a  whole  province,  and  batter  down  goodly  cities  with  the 
cannon.  113 

Enter  Duchess  and  Ladies 

Duch.   Your  arm,  Antonio  :  do  I  not  grow  fat  ? 
I  am  exceeding  short-winded.     Bosola, 
I  would  have  you,  sir,  provide  for  me  a  litter; 
Such  a  one  as  the  Duchess  of  Florence  rode  in. 

Bos.   The  duchess  used  one  when  she  was  great  with 
child. 

Duch.  I  think  she  did.  Come  hither,  mend  my  ruff :  ° 
Here,  when  ?  thou  art  such  a  tedious  lady ;  and  120 

Thy  breath  smells  of  lemon  peels:"  would  thou  hadst  done! 
Shall  I  swoon  under  thy  fingers  ?  I  am 
So  troubled  with  the  mother. 

Bos.    [Aside.]  I  fear  too  much. 


SCENE  1]  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  165 

Duck.   I  have  heard  you  say,  that  the  French  courtiers 
Wear  their  hats  on  fore  the  king. 

Ant.   I  have  seen  it. 

Duch.  In  the  presence  ? 

Ant.  Yes. 

Duch.   Why  should  not  we  bring  up  that  fashion  ? 
'Tis  ceremony  more  than  duty,  that  consists 
In  the  removing  of  a  piece  of  felt : 

Be  you  the  example  of  the  rest  o'  th'  court,  130 

Put  on  your  hat  first. 

Ant.  You  must  pardon  me: 

I  have  seen,  in  colder  countries  than  in  France, 
Nobles  stand  bare  to  th'  prince ;  and  the  distinction 
Methought  showed  reverently. 

Bos.   I  have  a  present  for  your  grace. 

Duch.  For  me,  sir  ? 

Bos.   Apricocks,  madam. 

Duch.  O,  sir,  where  are  they  ? 

I  have  heard  of  none  to  year." 

Bos.   [Aside.]    Good,  her  colour  rises. 

Duch:  Indeed  I  thank  you;  theyarewondrous  fair  ones: 
What  an  unskilful  fellow  is  our  gardener  !  140 

We  shall  have  none  this  month. 

Bos.   Will  not  your  grace  pare  them  ? 

Duch.   No :  they   taste   of    musk,   methinks ;    indeed 
they  do. 

Bos.   I  knov/  not :  yet  I  wish  your  grace  had  pared  'em. 

Duch.   Why? 

Bos.  ■    I  forgot  to  tell  you,  the  knave  gardener, 

Only  to  raise  his  profit  by  them  the  sooner, 
Did  ripen  them  in  horse-dung. 

Duch.  O,  you  jest.  — 

You  shall  judge :  pray,  taste  one. 

Ant.  .  Indeed,  madam, 

I  do  not  love  the  fruit. 

Duch.  Sir,  you  are  loath 

To  rob  us  of  our  dainties :  'tis  a  delicate  fruit ;  150 


l66  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  il 

They  say  they  are  restorative. 

Bos.  'Tis  a  pretty 

Art,  this  grafting. 

Duch.    'Tis  so:  a  bettering  of  nature. 

Bos.   To  make  a  pippin  grow  upon  a  crab, 
A  damson  on  a  black -thorn.  —  [Aside.]    How  greedily  she 

eats  them  ! 
A  whirlwind  strike  off  these  bawd  farthingales  ! 
For,  but  for  that,  and  the  loose-bodied  gown, 
I  should  have  discovered  apparently 
The  young  springal  cutting  a  caper  in  her  belly. 

Duch.   I  thank  you,  Bosola :  they  were  right  good  ones, 
If  they  do  not  make  me  sick. 

Ant.  How  now,  madam  ?      i6i 

Duch.   This  green  fruit  and  my  stomach  are  not  friends : 
How  they  swell  me  ! 

Bos.   [Aside.]   Nay,  you  are  too  much  swelled  already. 

Duch.   O,  I  am  in  an  extreme  cold  sweat! 

Bos.  I  am  very  sorry.   [Exit. 

Duch.   Lights  to  my  chamber!     0  good  Antonio, 
I  fear  I  am  undone  !  [Exeunt  Duchess  and  Ladies. 

Delio.  Lights  there,  lights ! 

Ant.   O  my  most  trusty  Delio,  we  are  lost ! 
I  fear  she's  fallen  in  labour ;  and  there's  left 
No  time  for  her  remove. 

Delio.  Have  you  prepared 

Those  ladies  to  attend  her  ?  and  procured  17° 

That  politic  safe  conveyance  for  the  midwife, 
Your  duchess  plotted  ? 

Ant.  I  have. 

Delio.   Make  use  then  of  this  forced  occasion : 
Give  out  that  Bosola  hath  poisoned  her 
With  these  apricocks ;  that  will  give  some  colour 
For  her  keeping  close. 

Ant.  Fie,  fie,  the  physicians 

Will  then  flock  to  her. 

Delio.  For  that  yOu  may  pretend 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  167 

She'll  use  some  prepared  antidote  of  her  own, 
Lest  the  physicians  should  re-poison  her. 
A7it.   I  am  lost  in  amazement :   I  know  not  what  to 
think  on't.  [Exeunt.        180 

Scene  II" 

Enter  Bosola 

Bos.  So,  so,  there's  no  question  but  her  tcchiness  and 
most  vulturous  eating  of  the  apricocks,  are  apparent 
signs  of  breeding. 

Enter  an  Old  Lady 
Now? 

Old  Lady.   I  am  in  haste,  sir. 

Bos.  There  was  a  young  waiting- woman,  had  a  mon- 
strous desire  to  see  the  glass-house  "  — 

Old  Lady.   Nay,  pray  let  me  go. 

Bos.  And  it  was  only  to  know  what  strange  instru- 
ment it  was,  should  swell  up  a  glass  to  the  fashion  of  a 
woman's  belly.  " 

Old  Lady.  I  will  hear  no  more  of  the  glass-house.  You 
are  still  abusing  women? 

Bos.  Who,  I  ?  no,  only,  by  the  way,  now  and  then, 
mention  your  frailties.  The  orange-tree  bears  ripe  and 
green  fruit  and  blossoms,  altogether :  and  some  of  you 
give  entertainment  for  pure  love,  but  more,  for  more 
precious  reward.  The  lusty  spring  smells  well ;  but 
drooping  autumn  tastes  well.  If  we  have  the  same 
golden  showers,  that  rained  in  the  time  of  Jupiter  the 
thunderer,  you  have  the  same  Danaes  still,  to  hold  up 
their  laps  to  receive  them.  Didst  thou  never  study  the 
mathematics  ?  23 

Old  Lady.   What's  that,  sir  ? 

Bos.  Why,  to  know  the  trick  how  to  make  a  many 
lines  meet  in  one  centre.  Go,  go,  give  your  foster- 
daughters  good  counsel :  tell  them,  that  the  devil  takes 


l68  THE  DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  ii 

delight  to  hang  at  a  woman's  girdle,  like  a  false  rusty 
watch,  that  she  cannot  discern  how  the  time  passes. 

[Exit  Old  Lady. 

Enter  Antonio,  Roderigo,  Delio,  and  Grisolan 

Ant.   Shut  up  the  court-gates. 

Rod.  Why,  sir  ?   what's  the  danger  ? 

Ant.    Shut  up  the  posterns  presently,  and  call  31 

All  the  officers  o'  th'  court. 

Gris.  I  shall  instantly.  [Exit. 

Ant.   Who  keeps  the  key  o'  th'  park-gate? 
Rod.  Forobosco. 

Ant.   Let  him  bring't  presently. 

Enter  Grisolan  and  Servants 

First  Serv.  O  gentlemen  o'  th'  court,  the  foulest  treason ! 

Bos.    [Aside.]    If    that    these     apricocks     should     be 
poisoned  now. 
Without  my  knowledge  ! 

Serv.   There  was  taken  even   now  a  Switzer  in  the 
duchess'  bedchamber  — 

Second  Serv.    A  Switzer  ! 

Serv.   With  a  pistol  in  his  great  cod-piece.  40 

Bos.   Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Serv.   The  cod-piece  was  the  case  for't. 

Second  Serv.     There    was    a    cunning    traitor ;     who 
would  have  searched  his  cod-piece  ? 

Serv.   True,  if  he  had  kept  out  of  the  ladies'  chambers : 
and  all  the  moulds  of  his  buttons  were  leaden  bullets. 

Second  Serv.   O  wicked  cannibal !   a  firelock  in's  cod- 
piece ! 

Serv.    'Twas  a  French  plot,  upon  my  life. 

Second  Serv.   To  see  what  the  devil  can  do  !  5° 

Ant.   Are  all  the  officers  here  ? 

Servants.   We  are. 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFl  169 

A  nt.   Gentlemen, 
We  have  lost    much   plate   you   know ;    and   but    this 

evening 
Jewels,  to  the  value  of  four  thousand  ducats, 
Are  missing  in  the  duchess'  cabinet. 
Are  the  gates  shut  ? 

Serv.  Yes. 

Ant.  Tis  the  duchess'  pleasure 

Each  officer  be  locked  into  his  chamber 
Till  the  sun-rising ;  and  to  send  the  keys 
Of  all  their  chests,  and  of  their  outward  doors  60 

Into  her  bedchamber.     She  is  very  sick. 

Rod.   At  her  pleasure. 

Ant.   She  entreats  you  tak't  not  ill :  the  innocent 
Shall  be  more  approved  by  it. 

Bos.   Gentlemen  o'  th'  wood-yard,  where's  your  Switzer 
now? 

Serv.   By  this  hand,  'twas  credibly  reported  by  one 
o'  th'  black  guard. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Antonio  and  Delio. 

Delio.  How  fares  it  with  the  duchess  ? 

Ant.  She's  exposed 

Unto  the  worst  of  torture,  pain  and  fear. 

Delio.   Speak  to  her  all  happy  comfort. 

Ant.   How  I  do  play  the  fool  with  mine  own  danger ! 
You  are  this  night,  dear  friend,  to  post  to  Rome :  71 

My  life  lies  in  your  service. 

Delio.  Do  not  doubt  me. 

A  nt.   O,  'tis  far  from  me  !  and  yet  fear  presents  me 
Somewhat  that  looks  like  danger. 

Delio.  Believe  it, 

'Tis  but  the  shadow  of  your  fear,  no  more : 
How  superstitiously  we  mind  our  evils  ! 
The  throwing  down  salt,  or  crossing  of  a  hare, 
Bleeding  at  nose,  the  stumbling  of  a  horse, 
Or  singing  of  a  cricket,  are  of  power 
To  daunt  whole  man  in  us.     Sir,  fare  you  well :  80 


170  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  il 

I  wisli  you  all  the  joys  of  a  blest  father ; 

And,  for  my  faith,  lay  this  unto  your  breast, 

Old  friends,  like  old  swords,  still  are  trusted  best.    [Exit. 

Enter  Cariola 

Cari.   Sir,  you  are  the  happy  father  of  a  son : 
Your  wife  commends  him  to  you. 

Ant.  Blessed  comfort ! 

For  Heaven's  sake  tend  her  well :  I'll  presently 
Go  set  a  figure  for's  nativity."  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III'' 

Enter  Bosola,  with  a  dark  lantern 

Bos.   Sure  I  did  hear  a  woman  shriek :  list,  ha  ! 
And  the  sound  came,  if  I  received  it  right. 
From  the  duchess'  lodgings.      There's  some  stratagem 
In  the  confining  all  our  courtiers 
To  their  several  wards :  I  must  have  part  of  it ;  ° 
My  intelligence  will  freeze  else.     List,  again  ! 
It  may  be  'twas  the  melancholy  bird. 
Best  friend  of  silence  and  of  solitariness, 
The  owl,  that  screamed  so.     Ha!  Antonio! 

Enter  Antonio 

Ant.   I  heard  some  noise.       Who's  there?   what  art 
thou?  speak.  lo 

Bos.   Antonio  ?  put  not  your  face  nor  body 
To  such  a  forced  expression  of  fear  : 
I  am  Bosola,  your  friend. 

Ant.  Bosola ! 

This  mole  does  undermine  me  —  Heard  you  not 
A  noise  even  now  ? 

Bos.  From  whence  ? 

Ant.  From  the  duchess'  lodging. 


SCENE  III]  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  171 

Bos.   Not  I :  did  you  ? 

Afil.  I  did,  or  else  I  dreamed. 

Bos.   Let's  walk  towards  it. 

Atii.  No:  it  may  be  'twas 

But  the  rising  of  the  wind. 

Bos.  Very  Ukely : 

Methinks  'tis  very  cold,  and  yet  you  sweat. 
You  look  wildly. 

Ant.  I  have  been  setting  a  figure  20 

For  the  duchess'  jewels. 

Bos.  Ah,  and  how  falls  your  question  ? 

Do  you  find  it  radical  ?  " 

Ant.  What's  that  to  you? 

'Tis  rather  to  be  questioned  what  design. 
When  all  meri  were  commanded  to  their  lodgings. 
Makes  you  a  night-walker. 

Bos.  In  sooth  I'll  tell  you : 

Now  all  the  court's  asleep,  I  thought  the  devil 
Had  least  to  do  here ;  I  came  to  say  my  prayers, 
And  if  it  do  oflfend  you  I  do  so. 
You  are  a  fine  courtier. 

Ant.    [Aside.]  This  fellow  will  undo  me.  — 

You  gave  the  duchess  apricocks  to-day :  3° 

Pray  heaven  they  were  not  poisoned. 

Bos.   Poisoned  !  a  Spanish  fig 
For  the  imputation. ° 

Ant.  Traitors  are  ever  confident, 

Till  they  are  discovered.     There  were  jewels  stol'n  too : 
In  my  conceit,  none  are  to  be  suspected 
More  than  yourself. 

Bos.  You  are  a  false  steward. 

Ant.   Saucy  slave,  I'll  pull  thee  up  by  the  roots. 

Bos.   May  be  the  ruin  wall  crush  you  to  pieces. 

Ant.   You  are  an  impudent  snake  indeed,  sir. 
Are  you  scarce  warm,"  and  do  you  show  your  sting  ?  4° 
You  libel  well,  sir. 

Bos.  No,  sir :  copy  it  out, 


1/2  THE   DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  ii 

And  I  will  set  my  hand  to't. 

Ant.  My  nose  bleeds." 

One  that  were  superstitious  would  count 
This  ominous,  when  it  merely  comes  by  chance : 
Two  letters,  that  are  wrought"  here  for  my  name, 
Are  drowned  in  blood:  mere  accident.     For  you,  sir, 
I'll  take  order:  [Aside.]  i'  th'  morn  you  shall  be  safe  — 
'Tis  that  must  colour  her  lying-in.  — 
Sir,  this  door  you  pass  not : 

I  do  not  hold  it  fit  that  you  come  near  5° 

The  duchess'  lodgings,  till  you  have  quit  yourself.  — 
[Aside.]  The  great  are  like  the  base,  nay,  they  are  the 

same. 
When  they  seek  shameful  ways  to  avoid  shame.       [Exit. 

Bos.   Antonio  hereabout  did  drop  a  papeV. 
Some  of  your  help,  false  friend."     O,  here  it  is : 
What's  here  ?  a  child's  nativity"  calculated  !  56 

The  Duchess  was  delivered  of  a  son,  'tween  the  hours 
twelve  and  one  in  the  night,  Anno  Dom.  1504  (that's  this 
year),  decimo  nono  Decembris  (that's  this  night),  taken 
according  to  the  meridian  of  Malfi  (that's  our  Duchess: 
happy  discovery  !)  The  lord  of  the  first  house  being  com- 
bust in  the  ascendant,  signifies  short  life;  and  Mars  be- 
ing in  a  human  sign,  joined  to  the  tail  of  the  Dragon,  in  the 
eighth  house,  doth  threaten  a  violent  death.  Ccetera  non 
scrutantur. 

Why,  now  'tis  most  apparent :  this  precise  fellow 
Is  the  duchess'  bawd  —  I  have  it  to  my  wish  ! 
This  is  a  parcel  of  intelligency 

Our  courtiers  were  cased  up  for :  it  needs  must  follow, 
That  I  must  be  committed,  on  pretence  70 

Of  poisoning  her ;  which  I'll  endure,  and  laugh  at. 
If  one  could  find  the  father  now  !  but  that 
Time  will  discover.     Old  Castruccio 
I'  th'  morning  posts  to  Rome :  by  him  I'll  send 
A  letter,  that  shall  make  her  brothers'  galls 
O'crflow  their  livers.     This  was  a  thrifty  way. 


scKNK  IV]         THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  173 

Though  lust  do  mask  in  ne'er  so  strange  disguise, 

She's  oft  found  witty,  but  is  never  wise.  [Exit. 

Scene  IV  ° 
Enter  Cardinal  and  Julia 

Card.   Sit :  thou  art  my  best  of  wishes.     Prithee  tell  me, 
What  trick  didst  thou  invent  to  come  to  Rome 
Without  thy  husband  ? 

Julia.  Why,  my  lord,  I  told  him 

I  came  to  visit  an  old  anchorite*^  /^ «(/■»» rt^ 
Here,  for  devotion. 

Card.  Thou  art  a  witty  false  one ; 

I  mean,  to  him. 

Jidia.  You  have  prevailed  with  me 

Beyond  my  strongest  thoughts :  I  would  not  now 
Find  you  inconstant. 

Card.  Do  not  put  thyself 

To  such  a  voluntary  torture,  which  proceeds 
Out  of  your  own  guilt. 

Jidia.  How,  my  lord  ? 

Card.  You  fear       10 

My  constancy,  because  you  have  approved 
Those  giddy  and  wild  turnings  in  yourself. 

Julia.   Did  you  e'er  find  them  ? 

Card.  Sooth,  generally ;  for  women, 

A  man  might  strive  to  make  glass  malleable, 
Ere  he  should  make  them  fixed. 

Jidia.  So,  my  lord. 

Card.   We  had  need  go  borrow   that   fantastic  glass, 
Invented  by  Galileo"  the  Florentine, 
To  view  another  spacious  world  i'  th'  moon, 
And  look  to  find  a  constant  woman  there. 

Jidia.   This  is  very  well,  my  lord. 

Card.  Why  do  you  weep  ?  20 

Are  tears  your  justification  ?  the  self-same  tears 


1/4  THE   DUCHESS   OF  MALFI  [act  ii 

Will  fall  into  your  husband's  bosom,  lady, 
With  a  loud  protestation  that  you  love  him 
Above  the  world.     Come,  I'll  love  you  wisely : 
That's  jealousy ;  since  I  am  very  certain 
You  cannot  make  me  cuckold. 

Julia.  I'll  go  home 

To  my  husband. 

Card.  You  may  thank  me,  lady : 

I  have  taken  you  off  your  melancholy  perch. 
Bore  you  upon  my  fist,  and  showed  you  game. 
And  let  you  fly  at  it."^  —  I  pray  thee,  kiss  me.  —  3° 

When  thou  wast  with  thy  husband,  thou  wast  watched 
Like  a  tame  elephant :  —  (still  you  are  to  thank  me :)  — 
Thou  hadst  only  kisses  from  him,  and  high  feeding ; 
But  what  delight  was  that  ?  'twas  just  like  one 
That  hath  a  little  fingering  on  the  lute. 
Yet  cannot  tune  it :  —  still  you  are  to  thank  me. 

Julia.    You  told  me  of  a  piteous  wound  i'  th'  heart, 
And  a  sick  liver,  when  you  wooed  me  first, 
And  spake  like  one  in  physic."^ 

Card.  Who's  that  ?  — 

Enter  Servant 

Rest  firm,  for  my  affection  to  thee,  4° 

Lightning  moves  slow  to't. 

Serv.  Madam,  a  gentleman. 

That's  come  post  from  Malfi,  desires  to  see  you. 

Card.   Let  him  enter :  I'll  withdraw.  [Exit. 

Serv.  He  says, 

Your  husband,  old  Castruccio,  is  come  to  Rome. 
Most  pitifully  tired  with  riding  post.  [Exit. 

Enter  Delio 

Julia.   Signior  Delio  !  'tis  one  of  my  old  suitors. 
Delio.   I  was  bold  to  come  and  see  you. 


SCENE  IV]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  1 75 

Julia.  Sir,  you  are  welcome. 

Delio.   Do  you  lie  here  ? 

Julia.  Sure,  your  own  experience 

Will  satisfy  you,  no :  our  Roman  prelates 
Do  not  keep  lodging  for  ladies. 

Delia.  Very  well :  5° 

I  have  brought  you  no  commendations  from  your  husband, 
For  I  know  none  by  him. 

Julia.  I  hear  he's  come  to  Rome. 

Delio.   I  never  knew  man  and  beast,  of  a  horse  and  a 
knight, 
So  weary  of  each  other ;  if  he  had  had  a  good  back. 
He  would  have  undertook  to  have  borne  his  horse, 
His  breech  was  so  pitifully  sore. 

Julia.  Your  laughter 

Is  my  pity." 

Delia.  Lady,  I  know  not  whether 

You  want  money,  but  I  have  brought  you  some. 
•   Julia.    From  my  husband  ? 

Delio.  No,  from  mine  own  allowance. 

Julia.   I  must  hear  the  condition,  ere  I  be  bound  to 
take  it.  ^>o 

Delio.   Look  on't,  'tis  gold ;  hath  it  not  a  fine  colour  ? 

Julia.   I  have  a  bird  more  beautiful. 

Delio.  Try  the  sound  on't. 

Julia.   A  lute-string  far  exceeds  it : 
It  hath  no  smell,  like  cassia,  or  civet ; 
Nor  is  it  physical,"  though  some  fond  doctors 
Persuade  us  seeth't  in  cullises."     I'll  tell  you, 
This  is  a  creature  bred  by  — 

Enter  Servant 

Serv.  Your  husband's  come. 

Hath  delivered  a  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Calabria, 
That  to  my  thinking,  hath  put  him  out  of  his  wits.  [Exit. 

Julia.    Sir,  you  hear :  7= 


176  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  11 

Pray  let  me  know  your  business,  and  your  suit, 
As  briefly  as  can  be. 

Delio.   With  good  speed:  I  would  wish  you. 
At  such  time  as  you  are  non-resident 
With  your  husband,  my  mistress. 

Julia.    Sir,  I'll  go  ask  my  husband  if  I  shall. 
And  straight  return  your  answer.  [Exit. 

Delio.  Very  fine. 

Is  this  her  wit,  or  honesty,  that  speaks  thus  ? 
I  heard  one  say  the  duke  was  highly  moved 
With  a  letter  sent  from  Malfi.     I  do  fear  80 

Antonio  is  betrayed :  how  fearfully 
Shows  his  ambition  now  !  unfortunate  fortune  ! 
They  pass  through  whirlpools,  and  deep  woes  to  shun, 
Who  the  event  weigh,  ere  the  action's  done.  [Exit. 

Scene  V 
Enter  Cardinal,  and  Ferdinand  with  a  letter 

Ferd.   I  have  this  night  digged  up  a  mandrake. 

Card.  Say  you  ? 

Ferd.   And  I  am  grown  mad  with't. 

Card.  What's  the  prodigy  ? 

Ferd.   Read  there,  a  sis^r  damned ;  she's  loose  i'  th' 
hilts;"  ^^  ^ 

Grown  a  notorious  strumpet. 

Card.  Speak  lower. 

Ferd.  Lower ! 

Rogues  do  not  whisper't  now,  but  seek  to  publish't 
(As  servants  do  the  bounty  of  their  lords) 
Aloud ;  and  with  a  covetous  searching  eye. 
To  mark  who  note  them.     O,  confusion  seize  her  ! 
She  hath  had  most  cunning  bawds  to  serve  her  turn. 
And  more  secure  conveyances  for  lust,  10 

Than  towns  of  garrison  for  service. 

Card.  Is't  possible  ? 


SCENE  v]  THE   DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  177 

Can  this  be  certain  ? 

Ferd.  Rhubarb,  O,  for  rhubarb, 

To  purge  this  choler  !  here's  the  cursed  day 
To  prompt  my  memory ;  and  here't  shall  stick 
Till  of  her  bleeding  heart  I  make  a  sponge 
To  wipe  it  out. 

Card.  Why  do  you  make  yourself 

So  wild  a  tempest  ? 

Fcrd.  Would  I  could  be  one, 

That  I  might  toss  her  palace  'bout  her  ears. 
Root  up  her  goodly  forests,  blast  her  meads," 
And  lay  her  general  territory  as  waste,  20 

As  she  hath  done  her  honours. 

Card.  Shall  our  blood, 

The  royal  blood  of  Arragon  and  Castile, 
Be  thus  attainted  ? 

Ferd.  Apply  desperate  physic: 

We  must  not  now  use  balsamum,  but  fire. 
The  smarting  cupping-glass,  for  that's  the  mean 
To  purge  infected  blood,  such  blood  as  hers. 
There  is  a  kind  of  pity  in  mine  eye, 
I'll  give  it  to  my  handkerchief ;  and  now  'tis  here 
I'll  bequeath  this  to  her  bastard. 

Card.  What  to  do  ? 

Ferd.   Why,  to  make  soft  lint  for  his  mother's  wounds, 
When  I  have  hewed  her  to  pieces. 

Card.  Cursed  creature!    31 

Unequal  nature,  to  place  women's  hearts 
So  far  upon  the  left  side  1 

Ferd.  Foolish  men, 

That  e'er  will  trust  their  honour  in  a  bark 
Made  of  so  slight  weak  bulrush  as  is  woman. 
Apt  every  minute  to  sink  it ! 

Card.   Thus  ignorance,  when  it  hath  purchased  honour, 
It  cannot  wield  it. 

Ferd.  Mcthinks  I  see  her  laughing  :  — 

Excellent  hyena  !     Talk  to  me  somewhat,  quickly, 

WEBSTER   AND   TOURNEUR  —  12 


1/8  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  [act  ii 

Or  my  imagination  will  carry  me  40 

To  see  her  in  the  shameful  act  of  sin. 

Card.   With  whom  ? 

Ferd.        Happily  with  some  strong-thighed  bargeman, 
Or  one  o'  th'  wood-yard,  that  can  quoit  the  sledge, 
Or  toss  the  bar,  or  else  some  lovely  squire 
That  carries  coals  up  to  her  privy  lodgings. 

Card.   You  fly  beyond  your  reason. 

Ferd.  Go  to,  mistress  ! 

'Tis  not  your  whore's  milk  that  shall  quench  my  wildfire. 
But  your  whore's  blood. 

Card.   How  idly  shows  this  rage,  which  carries  you, 
As  men  conveyed  by  witches  through  the  air,  5° 

On  violent  whirlwinds  !   this  intemperate  noise 
Fitly  resembles  deaf  men's  shrill  discourse. 
Who  talk  aloud,  thinking  all  other  men 
To  have  their  imperfection. 

Ferd.  Have  not  you 

My  palsy  ? 

Card.  Yes ;  I  can  be  angry 

Without  this  rupture :  there  is  not  in  nature 
A  thing  that  makes  man  so  deformed,  so  beastly, 
As  doth  intemperate  anger.     Chide  yourself. 
You  have  divers  men,  who  never  yet  expressed 
Their  strong  desire  of  rest,  but  by  unrest,  60 

By  vexing  of  themselves.     Come,  put  yourself 
In  tune, 

Ferd.     So  :  I  will  only  study  to  seem 
The  thing  I  am  not.    .1  could  kill  her  now, 
In  you,  or  in  myself ;  for  I  do  think 
It  is  some  sin  in  us,  heaven  doth  revenge 
By  her. 

Card.     Arc  you  stark  mad  ? 

Ferd.  I  would  have  their  bodies 

Burnt  in  a  coal-pit  with  the  ventage  stopped, 
That  their  cursed  smoke  might  not  ascend  to  heaven ; 
Or  dip  the  sheets  they  lie  in,  in  pitch  or  sulphur, 


SCENE  V]  THE   DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  179 

Wrap  them  in't,  and  then  light  them  like  a  match ;       70 
Or  else  to  boil  their  bastard  to  a  cuUis 
And  give't  his  lecherous  father,  to  renew 
The  sin  of  his  back. 

Card.  I'll  leave  you. 

Ferd.  Nay,  I  have  done. 

I  am  confident,  had  I  been  damned  in  hell, 
And  should  have  heard  of  this,  it  would  have  put  me 
Into  a  cold  sweat.     In,  in,  I'll  go  sleep. 
Till  I  know  who  leaps  my  sister,  I'll  not  stir : 
That  known,  I'll  find  scorpions  to  string  my  whips, 
And  fix  her  in  a  general  eclipse."  [Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   THIRD 

Scene  I" 
Enter  Antonio  and  Delio 

Ant.   Our  noble  friend,  my  most  beloved  Delio ! 
O,  you  have  been  a  stranger  long  at  court : 
Came  you  along  with  the  lord  Ferdinand  ? 

Delio.   I  did,  sir :  and  how  fares  your  noble  duchess  ? 

Ant.   Right  fortunately  well :  she's  an  excellent 
Feeder  of  pedigrees ;  since  you  last  saw  her. 
She  hath  had  two  children  more,"  a  son  and  daughter. 

Delio.   Methinks  'twas  yesterday ;  let  me  but  wink, 
And  not  behold  your  face  —  which  to  mine  eye 
Is  somewhat  leaner  —  verily  I  should  dream  ic 

It  were  within  this  half  hour. 

Ant.   You  have  not  been  in  law,  friend  Delio, 
Nor  in  prison,  nor  a  suitor  at  the  court, 
Nor  begged  the  reversion  of  some  great  man's  place,° 
Nor  troubled  with  an  old  wife,  which  doth  make 
Your  time  so  insensibly  hasten. 

Delio.  Pray,  sir,  tell  me, 

Hath  not  this  news  arrived  yet  to  the  ear 
Of  the  lord  Cardinal  ? 

Ant.  I  fear  it  hath  : 

The  lord  Ferdinand,  that's  newly  come  to  court. 
Doth  bear  himself  right  dangerously. 

Delio.  Pray,  why  ?        2c 

Ant.   He  is  so  quiet,  that  he  seems  to  sleep 
The  tempest  out,  as  dormice  do  in  winter: 
Those  houses  that  are  haunted,  arc  most  still 
Till  the  devil  be  up. 

Delio.  What  say  the  common  people  ? 

180 


SCENE  I]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  l8l 

A)!l.   The  common  rabble  do  directly  say 
She  is  a  strumpet. 

Delio.  And  your  graver  heads, 

Which  would  be  politic,  what  censure  they  ? 

Ant.   They  do  observe,  I  grow  to  infinite  purchase, 
The  left  hand  way ;  and  all  suppose  the  duchess 
Would  amend  it,  if  she  could  :  for,  say  they,  30 

Great  princes,  though  they  grudge  their  officers 
Should  have  such  large  and  unconfined  means 
To  get  wealth  under  them,  will  not  complain, 
Lest  thereby  they  should  make  them  odious 
Unto  the  people ;  for  other  obligation 
Of  love  or  marriage,  between  her  and  me, 
They  never  dream  of. 

Delio.  The  lord  Ferdinand 

Is  going  to  bed. 

Enter  Duchess,  Ferdinand,  and  Bosola 

Ferd.  I'll  instantly  to  bed, 

For  I  am  weary.     I  am  to  bespeak 
A  husband  for  you. 

Duch.  For  me,  sir!  pray  who  is't?  40 

Ferd.   The  great  Count  Malateste. 

Duch.  Fie  upon  hi  in  : 

A  count !  he's  a  mere  stick  of  sugar-candy ; 
You  may  look  quite  thorough  him.     When  I  choose 
A  husband,  I  will  marry  for  your  honour. 

Ferd.   You    shall    do    well    in't.     How    is't,    worthy 
Antonio  ? 

Duch.   But,  sir,  I  am  to  have  private  conference  with 
you 
About  a  scandalous  report  is  spread 
Touching  mine  honour. 

Ferd.  Let  me  be  ever  deaf  to't : 

One  of  Pasquil's  paper-bullets,"  court-calumny, 
*A  pestilent  air,  which  princes'  palaces  5° 


l82  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iii 

Are  seldom  purged  of.     Yet,  say  that  it  were  true, 
I  pour  it  in  your  bosom :  my  fixed  love 
Would  strongly  excuse,  extenuate,  nay,  deny 
Faults,  were  they  apparent  in  you.     Go,  be  safe 
Ip  your  own  innocency. 

Duch.  O  blessed  comfort ! 

This  deadly  air  is  purged. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Ferdinand  and  Bosola. 

Ferd.  Her  guilt  treads  on 

Hot  burning  coulters."    Now,  Bosola, 
How  thrives  our  intelligence  ? 

Bos.  Sir,  uncertainly : 

'Tis  rumoured  she  hath  had  three  bastards,  but 
By  whom,  we  may  go  read  i'  th'  stars. 

Ferd.  Why  some      60 

Hold  opinion,  all  things  are  written  there. 

Bos.   Yes,  if  we  could  find  spectacles  to  read  them. 
I  do  suspect,  there  hath  been  some  sorcery 
Used  on  the  duchess. 

Ferd.  Sorcery  !  to  what  purpose  ? 

Bos.   To  make  her  dote  on  some  desertless  fellow, 
She  shames  to  acknowledge. 

Ferd.  Can  your  faith  give  way 

To  think  there's  power  in  potions,  or  in  charms, 
To  make  us  love  whether  we  will  or  no  ? 

Bos.   Most  certainly. 

Ferd.   Away,  these  are  mere  guUeries,  horrid  things,  70 
Invented  by  some  cheating  mountebanks. 
To  abuse  us.     Do  you  think  that  herbs,  or  charms, 
Can  force  the  will  ?     Some  trials  have  been  made 
In  this  foolish  practice,  but  the  ingredients 
Were  lenitive  poisons,  such  as  are  of  force 
To  make  the  patient  mad ;  and  straight  the  witch 
Swears  by  equivocation  they  are  in  love. 
The  witchcraft  lies  in  her  rank  blood.     This  night 
I  will  force  confession  from  her.     You  told  me 
You  had  got,  within  these  two  days,  a  false  key  80  - 


SCENKii]  THE    DUCHESS    UF    MALFI  183 

Into  her  bedchamber. 

Bos.  I  have. 

Ferd.  As  I  would  wish. 

Bos.   What  do  you  intend  to  do  ? 

Ferd.  Can  you  guess  ? 

Bos.  No. 

Ferd.  Do  not  ask  then : 

He  that  can  compass  me,  and  know  ray  drifts, 
May  say  he  hath  put  a  girdle  'bout  the  world, 
And  sounded  all  her  quicksands. 

Bos.  I  do  not 

Think  so. 

Ferd.        What  do  you  think,  then,  pray  ? 

Bos.  That  you 

Are  your  own  chronicle  too  much,  and  grossly 
Flatter  yourself. 

Ferd.  Give  me  thy  hand ;  I  thank  thee : 

I  never  gave  pension  but  to  flatterers. 
Till  I  entertained  thee.     Farewell.  90 

That  friend  a  great  man's  ruin  strongly  checks, 
Who  rails  into  his  belief  all  his  defects.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  11° 
Enter  Duchess,  Antonio,  and  Cariola 

Duch.   Bring  me  the  casket  hither,  and  the  glass. 
You  get  no  lodging  here  to  night,  my  lord. 

Ant.   Indeed,  I  must  persuade  one. 

Duch.  Very  good : 

I  hope  in  time  'twill  grow  into  a  custom, 
That  noblemen  shall  come  with  cap  and  knee. 
To  purchase  a  night's  lodging  of  their  wives. 

Atit.   I  must  lie  here. 

Ducli.  Must !  you  are  a  lord  of  misrule." 

Ant.   Indeed,  my  rule  is  only  in  the  night. 

Duch.   To  what  use  will  you  put  me  ? 


1 84  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  in 

Ant.  We'll  sleep  together. 

Duch.   Alas,  what  pleasure  can  two  lovers  find  in  sleep! 

Cari.  My  lord,  I  lie  with  her  often ;  and  I  know  1 1 
She'll  much  disquiet  you. 

Ant.  See,  you  are  complained  of. 

Cari.   For  she's  the  sprawlingest  bedfellow. 

Ant.   I  shall  like  her  the  better  for  that. 

Cari.    Sir,  shall  I  ask  you  a  question  ? 

Ant.   Aye,  pray  thee,  Cariola. 

Cari.   Wherefore  still,  when  you  lie  with  my  lady. 
Do  you  rise  so  early  ? 

Ant.  Labouring  men 

Count  the  clock  oftenest,  Cariola ; 
Are  glad  when  their  task's  ended. 

Duch.  I'll  stop  your  mouth.  20 

Ant.   Nay,  that's  but  one ;  Venus  had  two  soft  doves 
To  draw  her  chariot ;  I  must  have  another. 
When  wilt  thou  marry,  Cariola  ? 

Cari.  Never,  my  lord. 

Ant.   O,  fie  upon  this  single  life  !  forego  it. 
We  read  how  Daphne,  for  her  peevish  flight. 
Became  a'fruitless  bay-tree  ;   Syrinx  turned 
To  the  pale  empty  reed ;  Anaxarete  " 
Was  frozen  into  marble :  whereas  those 
Which  married,  or  proved  kind  unto  their  friends. 
Were,  by  a  gracious  influence,  transhaped  3° 

Into  the  olive,  pomegranate,  mulberry. 
Became  flowers,  precious  stones,  or  eminent  stars. 

Cari.  This  is  a  vain  poetry ;  but  I  pray  you  tell  me, 
If  there  were  proposed  me,  wisdom,  riches,  and  beauty, 
In  three  several  young  men,  which  should  I  choose  ? 

Ant.    'Tis  a  hard  question :  this  was  Paris'  case. 
And  he  was  blind  in't,  and  there  was  great  cause ; 
For  how  was't  possible  he  could  judge  right. 
Having  three  amorous  goddesses  in  view. 
And  they  stark  naked  ?  'twas  a  motion  "  40 

Were  able  to  benight  the  apprehension 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  185 

Of  the  severest  counsellor  of  Europe. 

Now  I  look  on  both  your  faces  so  well  formed, 

It  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  question  I  would  ask. 

Cari.   Whatis't? 

Ant.  I  do  wonder  why  hard-favoured  ladies, 

For  the  most  part,  keep  worse-favoured  waiting- women 
To  attend  them,  and  cannot  endure  fair  ones. 

Duch.   O,  that's  soon  answered. 
Did  you  ever  in  your  life  know  an  ill  painter 
Desire  to  have  his  dwelling  next  door  to  the  shop  50 

Of  an  excellent  picture-maker  ?   'twould  disgrace 
His  face-making,  and  undo  him.     I  prithee, 
When  were  we  so  merry  ?     My  hair  tangles. 

Ant.   Pray  thee,  Cariola,  let's  steal  forth  the  room, 
And  let  her  talk  to  herself :  I  have  divers  times 
Served  her  the  like,  when  she  hath  chafed  extremely. 
I  love  to  see  her  angry.     Softly,  Cariola.  [Exeunt. 

Duch.   Doth  not  the  colour  of  my  hair  'gin  to  change  ? 
When  I  wax  grey,  I  shall  have  all  the  court 
Powder  their  hair  with  arras  to  be  like  me.  6d 

You  have  cause  to  love  me ;  I  entered  you  into  my  heart 

Enter  Ferdinand  unseen 

Before  you  would  vouchsafe  to  call  for  the  keys. 
We  shall  one  day  have  my  brothers  take  you  napping : 
Methinks  his  presence,  being  now  at  court, 
Should  make  you  keep  your  own  bed ;  but  you'll  say 
Love  mixed  with  fear  is  sweetest.     I'll  assure  you, 
You  shall  get  no  more  children  till  my  brothers 
■\  Consent  to  be  your  gossips.     Have  you  lost  your  tongue  ? 
'Tis  welcome :  ^ 

For  know,  whether  I  am  doomed  to  live  or  die,  70 

I  can  do  both  like  a  prince. 

[Ferdinand  gives  her  a  poniard. 
Ferd.  Die  then  quickly. 

Virtue,  where  art  thou  hid  ?   what  hideous  thing 


1 86  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iii 

Is  it  that  doth  eclipse  thee  ? 

Duch.  Pray,  sir,  hear  me. 

Ferd.   Or  is  it  true  thou  art  but  a  bare  name, 
i\nd  no  essential  thing  ? 

Duch.  Sir  — 

Ferd.  Do  not  speak. 

Duch.   No,  sir : 
I  will  plant  my  soul  in  mine  ears,  to  hear  you. 

Ferd.   O  most  imperfect  light  of  human  reason, 
That  mak'st  us  so  unhappy  to  foresee 
What  we  can  least  prevent !     Pursue  thy  wishes,  80 

And  glory  in  them :  there's  in  shame  no  comfort. 
But  to  be  past  all  bounds  and  sense  of  shame. 

Duch.   I  pray,  sir,  hear  me  :  I  am  married. 

Ferd.  So! 

Duch.   Happily,  not  to  your  liking :  but  for  that, 
Alas,  your  shears  do  come  untimely  now 
To  clip  the  bird's  wings,  that's  already  flown ! 
Will  you  see  my  husband  ? 

Ferd.  Yes,  if  I  could  change 

Eyes  with  a  basilisk." 

Duch.  Sure,  you  came  hither 

By  his  confederacy. 

Ferd.  The  howling  of  a  wolf 

Is  music  to  thee,  screech-owl :  prithee,  peace.  9° 

Whate'er  thou  art  that  hast  enjoyed  my  sister, 
For  I  am  sure  thou  hears't  me,  for  thine  own  sake 
Let  me  not  know  thee.     I  came  hither  prepared 
To  work  thy  discovery ; "  yet  am  now  persuaded 
It  would  beget  such  violent  effects 
As  would  damn  us  both.     I  would  not  for  ten  millions 
I  had  beheld  thee  :  therefore  use  all  means 
I  never  may  have  knowledge  of  thy  name ; 
Enjoy  thy  lust  still,  and  a  wretched  Hfe, 
On  that  condition.     And  for  thee,  vile  woman,  100 

If  thou  do  wish  thy  lecher  may  grow  old 
In  thy  embracements,  I  would  have  thee  build 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  187 

Such  a  room  for  him  as  our  anchorites 
To  hoHcr  use  inhabit.     Let  not  the  sun 
Shine  on  him,  till  he's  dead ;  let  dogs  and  monkeys 
Only  converse  with  him,  and  such  dumb  things 
To  whom  nature  denies  use  to  sound  his  name ; 
Do  not  keep  a  paraquito,  lest  she  learn  it ; 
If  thou  do  love  him,  cut  out  thine  own  tongue 
Lest  it  bewray  him. 

Duck.  Why  might  not  I  marry  ?  no 

I  have  not  gone  about  in  this  to  create 
Any  new  world  or  custom. 

Ferd.  Thou  art  undone ; 

And  thou  hast  ta'en  that  massy  sheet  of  lead 
That  hid  thy  husband's  bones,  and  folded  it 
About  my  heart. 

Duch.  Mine  bleeds  for't ! 

Ferd.  Thine  !  thy  heart ! 

Wliat  should  I  name't,  unless  a  hollow  bullet 
Filled  with  unquenchable  wildfire  ? 

Duch.  You  are  in  this 

Too  strict ;   and  were  you  not  my  princely  brother, 
I  would  say,  too  wilful :  my  reputation 
Is  safe. 

Ferd.   Dost  thou  know  what  reputation  is  ?  120 

I'll  tell  thee,  —  to  small  purpose,  since  th'  instruction 
Comes  now  too  late. 

Upon  a  time  Reputation,  Love,  and  Death 
Would  travel  o'er  the  world ;  and  it  was  concluded 
That  they  should  part,  and  take  three  several  ways. 
Death  told  them,  they  should  find  him  in  great  battles, 
Or  cities  plagued  with  plagues :  Love  gives  them  counsel 
To  inquire  for  him  'mongst  unambitious  shepherds. 
Where  dowries  were  not  talked  of,  and  sometimes 
'Mongst  quiet  kindred,  that  had  nothing  left  130 

By  their  dead  parents :   '  Stay,'  quoth  Reputation, 
*  Do  not  forsake  me ;   for  it  is  my  nature 
If  once  I  part  from  any  man  I  meet, 


1 88  THE   DUCHESS   OF  MALFl  [act  iii 

I  am  never  found  again.'     And  so,  for  you ; 
You  have  shook  hands  with  Reputation, 
And  made  him  invisible.     So  fare  you  well : 
I  will  never  see  you  more. 

Duch.  Why  should  only  I, 

Of  all  the  other  princes  of  the  world, 
Be  cased  up,  like  a  holy  relic  ?  I  have  youth, 
And  a  httle  beauty. 

Ferd.  So  you  have  some  virgins  140 

That  are  witches."    I  will  never  see  thee  more.     [Exit. 

Enter  Antonio  with  a  pistol,  and  Cariola 

Duch.   You  saw  this  apparition  ? 

Ant.  Yes:  we  are 

Betrayed.     How  came  he  hither  ?  I  should  turn 
This  to  thee,  for  that.  [To  C.\eiola. 

Cari.  Pray,  sir,  do;  and  when 

That  you  have  cleft  my  heart,  you  shall  read  there 
Mine  innocence. 

Dtich.  That  gallery  gave  him  entrance. 

Ant.   I  would  this  terrible  thing  would  come  again, 
That,  standing  on  my  guard,  I  might  relate 
My  warrantable  love  !  Ha  !  what  means  this  ? 

[She  shows  the  poniard. 

Duch.   He  left  this  with  me. 

Ant.  And  it  seems,  did  wish  150 

You  would  use  it  on  yourself. 

Duch.  His  action  seemed 

To  intend  so  much. 

Ant.  This  hath  a  handle  to't. 

As  well  as  a  point :  turn  it  towards  him,  and 
So  fasten  the  keen  edge  in  his  rank  gall. 
How  now  ?  who  knocks  ?  more  earthquakes  f 

Duch.  I  stand 

As  if  a  mine  beneath  my  feet  were  ready 
To  be  blown  up. 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  189 

Cari.  'Tis  Bosola. 

•  Duch.  Away! 

O  misery  !  methinks  unjust  actions 
Should  wear  these  masks  and  curtains,  and  not  we. 
You  must  instantly  part  hence :    I  have  fashioned  it 
already.  [Exit  Antonio.     160 

Enter  Bosola 

Bos.   The  duke  your  brother  is  ta'en  up  in  a  whirlwind ; 
Hath  took  horse,  and's  rid  post  to  Rome. 

Duch.  So  late  ! 

Bos.  He  told  me,  as  he  mounted  into  th'  saddle, 
You  were  undone. 

Diich.  Indeed,  I  am  very  near  it. 

Bos.   What's  the  matter  ? 

Duch.   Antonio,  the  master  of  our  household, 
Hath  dealt  so  falsely  with  me  in's  accounts : 
My  brother  stood  engaged  with  me  for  money 
Ta'en  up  of  certain  Neapolitan  Jews, 
And  Antonio  lets  the  bonds  be  forfeit.  170 

Bos.   Strange  !  —  this  is  cunning  ! 

Duch.  And  hereupon 

My  brother's  bills  at  Naples  are  protested 
Against.     Call  up  our  officers. 

Bos.  I  shall.  [Exit. 

Enter  Antonio 

Duch.   The  place  that  you  must  fly  to,  is  Ancona : 
Hire  a  house  there ;  I'll  send  after  you 
My  treasure,  and  my  jewels.     Our  weak  safety 
Runs  upon  enginous  wheels :  °  short  syllal)les. 
Must  stand  for  periods.     I  must  now  accuse  you         ^,  .fi  «J^ 
Of  such  a  feigned  crime,  as  Tasso  calls    >■      ^^J-  J  *"* 
Magnanima  mcnzoma.ix  noMe  lie.  j^^  **^^^***      ^80 

'Cause  it   must  shield  our  honours :  —  hark,  they  are 
coming  ! 


190  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  in 

Enter  Bosola  and  Gentlemen 

Ant.   Will  your  grace  hear  me? 

Duch.   I  have  got  well  by  you ;   you  have  yielded  me 
A  million  of  loss :  I  am  like  to  inherit 
The  people's  curses  for  your  stewardship. 
You  had  the  trick  in  audit-time  to  be  sick, 
Till  I  had  signed  your  quietus ;  and  that  cured  you 
Without  help  of  a  doctor.     Gentlemen, 
I  would  have  this  man  be  an  example  to  you  all, 
So  shall  you  hold  my  favour ;  I  pray,  let  him ;°  19° 

For  h'as  done  that,  alas  !  you  would  not  think  of, 
And,  because  I  intend  to  be  rid  of  him, 
I  mean  not  to  publish.     Use  your  fortune  elsewhere. 

Ant.   I  am  strongly  armed  to  brook  my  overthrow  : 
As  commonly  men  bear  with  a  hard  year, 
I  will  not  blame  the  cause  on't ;  but  do  think 
The  necessity  of  my  malevolent  star 
Procures  this,  not  her  humour.     0,  the  inconstant 
And  rotten  ground  of  service  !  you  may  see, 
'Tis  even  like  him,  that  in  a  winter  night,  200 

Takes  a  long  slumber  o'er  a  dying  fire, 
A-loath  to  part  from't ;  yet  parts  thence  as  cold. 
As  when  he  first  sat  down. 

Duch.  We  do  confiscate 

Towards  the  satisfying  of  your  accounts. 
All  that  you  have. 

Ant.  I  am  all  yours;  and 'tis  very  fit 

All  mine  should  be  so. 

Duch.  So,  sir,  you  have  your  pass. 

Ant.   You  may  see,  gentlemen,  what  it  is  to  serve 
A  prince  with  body  and  soul.  [Exit. 

Bos.  Here's  an  example  for  extortion  :  what  moisture 
is  drawn  out  of  the  sea,  when  foul  weather  comes,  pours 
down,  and  runs  into  the  sea  again.  211 

Duch.   I  would  know  what  are  your  opinions 
Of  this  Antonio. 


SCENE  ii]  THE    DUCHESS  OF   MALFI  19I 

Second  Off.   He  could  not  abide  to  see  a  pig's  head 
gaping:"    I  thought  your  grace  would  find  him  a  Jew. 

Third  Off.   I  would  you  had  been  his  oiliccr,  for  your 
own  sake. 

Fourth  Off.   You  would  have  had  more  money. 

First  Off.   He  stopped  his  ears  with  black  wool,  and  to 
those  came  to  him  for  money,  said  he  was  thick  of  hearing. 

Second  Off.   Some  said  he  was  an  hermaphrodite,  for 
he  could  not  abide  a  woman.  222 

Fourth  Off.   How  scurvy  proud  he  would  look,  w^hen 
the  treasury  was  full !  well,  let  him  go. 

First  Off.  Yes,  and  the  chippings  of  the  buttery "  fly 
after  him,  to  scour  his  gold  chain.  [Exeunt. 

Duch.   Leave  us.     What  do  you  think  of  these  ? 

Bos.   That  these  are  rogues,  that  in's  prosperity, 
But  to  have  waited  on  his  fortune,  could  have  wished 
His  dirty  stirrup  rivetted  through  their  noses ;  °  230 

And  followed  after's  mule,  like  a  bear  in  a  ring. 
Would  have  prostituted  their  daughters  to  his  lust ; 
Made    their    first-born    intelligencers;    thought    none 

happy 
But  such  as  were  born  under  his  blessed  planet, 
And  wore  his  livery :   and  do  these  lice  drop  off  now  ? 
Well,  never  look  to  have  the  like  again  : 
He  hath  left  a  sort  of  flattering  rogues  behind  him ; 
Their  doom  must  follow.     Princes  pay  flatterers 
In  their  own  money :   flatterers  dissemble  their  vices. 
And  they  dissemble  their  lies ;   that's  justice.  240 

Alas,  poor  gentleman  ! 

Duch.   Poor  !  he  hath  amply  filled  his  coffers. 

Bos.   Sure,  he  was  too  honest.    Plutus,  the  god  of  riches, 
When  he's  sent  by  Jupiter  to  any  man. 
He  goes  limping,  to  signify  that  wealth 
That  comes  on  God's  name,  comes  slowly  ;  but  when  he's 

sent 
On  the  devil's  errand,  he  rides  post  and  comes  in  by 
scuttles. 


192  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iii 

Let  me  show  you,  what  a  most  unvalued  jewel 

You  have  in  a  wanton  humour  thrown  away, 

To  bless  the  man  shall  find  him.     He  was  an  excellent 

Courtier,  and  most  faithful ;    a  soldier,  that  thought  it 

As  beastly  to  know  his  own  value  too  little,  252 

As  devilish  to  acknowledge  it  too  much. 

Both  his  virtue  and  form  deserved  a  far  better  fortune. 

His  discourse  rather  delighted  to  judge  itself,  than  show 

itself: 
His  breast  was  filled  with  all  perfection, 
And  yet  it  seemed  a  private  whispering-room, 
It  made  so  little  noise  oft. 

Duch.   But  he  was  basely  descended. 

Bos.   Will  you  make  yourself  a  mercenary  herald,    260 
Rather  to  examine  men's  pedigrees,  than  virtues  ? 
You  shall  want  him : 

For  know  an  honest  statesman  to  a  prince, 
Is  like  a  cedar  planted  by  a  spring : 
The  spring  bathes  the  tree's  root,  the  grateful  tree 
Rewards  it  with  his  shadow  —  you  have  not  done  so. 
I  would  sooner  swim  to  the  Bermoothes"^  on 
Two  poHticians'  rotten  bladders,  tied 
Together  with  an  intelligencer's  heart-string. 
Than  depend  on  so  changeable  a  prince's  favour.  270 

Fare  thee  well,  Antonio  !    since  the  malice  of  the  world 
Would  needs  down  with  thee,  it  cannot  be  said  yet 
That  any  ill  happened  unto  thee, 
Considering  thy  fall  was  accompanied  with  virtue. 

Duch.   O,  you  render  me  excellent  music  ! 

Bos.  Say  you  ? 

Dtich.   This  good  one  that  you  speak  of,  is  my  husband. 

Bos.   Do  I  not  dream  ?  can  this  ambitious  age 
Have  so  much  goodness  in't,  as  to  prefer 
A  man  merely  for  worth,  without  these  shadows 
Of  wealth  and  painted  honours  ?  possible  ?  280 

Duch.   I  have  had  three  children  by  him. 

Bos.  Fortunate  lady ! 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  193 

For  you  have  made  your  private  nuptial  bed 

The  humble  and  fair  seminary  of  peace. 

No  question  but  many  an  unbeneficed  scholar 

Shall  pray  for  you  for  this  deed,  and  rejoice 

That  some  preferment  in  the  world  can  yet 

Arise  from  merit.     The  virgins  of  your  land 

That  have  mo  dowries,  shall  hope  your  example 

Will  raise  them  to  rich  husbands.     Should  you  want 

Soldiers,  'twould  make  the  very  Turks  and  Moors        290 

Turn  Christians,  and  serve  you  for  this  act. 

Last,  the  neglected  poets  of  your  time, 

In  honour  of  this  trophy  of  a  man, 

Raised  by  that  curious  engine,  your  white  hand, 

Shall  thank  you,  in  your  grave,  for't ;  and  make  that 

More  reverend  than  all  the  cabinets 

Of  living  princes.     For  Antonio, 

His  fame  shall  likewise  How  from  many  a  pen, 

When  heralds  shall  want  coats  to  sell  to  men. 

Duch.   As  I  taste  comfort  in  this  friendly  speech,      300 
So  would  I  find  concealment. 

Bos.   O,  the  secret  of  my  prince. 
Which  I  will  wear  on  th'  inside  of  my  heart ! 

Duch.   You  shall  take  charge  of  all  my  coin  and  jewels, 
And  follow  him ;  for  he  retires  himself 
To  Ancona. 

Bos.  So. 

Duch.  Whither,  within  few  days, 

I  mean  to  follow  thee. 

Bos.  Let  me  think : 

I  would  wish  your  grace  to  feign  a  pilgrimage 
To  our  lady  of  Loretto,  °  scarce  seven  leagues 
From  fair  Ancona;   so  may  you  depart  31° 

Your  country  with  more  honour,  and  your  flight 
Will  seem  a  princely  progress,  retaining 
Your  usual  train  about  you. 

Duch.  Sir,  your  direction 

Shall  lead  me  by  the  hand. 


194  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  hi 

Cari.   In  my  opinion,  she  were  better  progress 
To  the  baths  at  Lucca,  or  go  visit  the  Spa  ° 
In  Germany ;  for,  if  you  will  believe  me, 
I  do  not  like  this  jesting  with  religion, 
This  feigned  pilgrimage. 

Duch.   Thou  art  a  superstitious  fool !  320 

Prepare  us  instantly  for  our  departure.  « 

Past  sorrows,  let  us  moderately  lament  them. 
For  those  to  come,  seek  wisely  to  prevent  them. 

[Exeunt  Duchess  and  Cariola. 

Bos.   A  politician  is  the  devil's  quilted  anvil ; 
He  fashions  all  sins  on  him,  and  the  blows 
Are  never  heard :  he  may  work  in  a  lady's  chamber, 
As  here  for  proof.     What  rests  but  I  reveal 
All  to  my  lord  ?     O,  this  base  quality 
Of  intelligencer  !   why,  every  quality  i'th'  world 
Prefers  but  gain  or  commendation.  33° 

Now,  for  this  act  I  am  certain  to  be  raised. 
And  men  that  paint  weeds  to  the  life,  are  praised.    [Exit. 


Scene  III° 

Enter    Cardinal,    Ferdinand,    Malateste,    Pescara, 
Delio  and  Silvio 

Card.   Must  we  turn  soldier  then  ? 

Mai.  The  emperor, 

Hearing  your  worth  that  way,  ere  you  attained 
This  reverend  garment,  joins  you  in  commission 
With  the  right  fortunate  soldier,  the  Marquis  of  Pescara, 
And  the  famous  Lannoy. 

Card.  He  that  had  the  honour 

Of  taking  the  French  king  prisoner  ? 

Mai.  The  same. 

Here's  a  plot  drawn  for  a  new  fortification 
At  Naples.  [Exit. 


SCENE  III]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  195 

Ferd.   This  great  Count  Malateste,  I  perceive, 
Hath  got  employment  ? 

Delio.  No  employment,  my  lord ;      10 

A  marginal  note  in  the  muster-book,  that  he  is 
A  voluntary  lord." 

Fcrd.  He's  no  soldier. 

Delio.   He  has  worn  gunpowder  in's  hollow  tooth,  for 
the  toothache. 

Sil.   He  comes  to  the  leaguer  with  a  full  intent 
To  eat  fresh  beef  and  garlic,  means  to  stay 
Till  the  scent  be  gone,  and  straight  return  to  court. 

Delio.   He  hath  read  all  the  late  service. 
As  the  City  Chronicle  "  relates  it : 
And  keeps  two  pewterers  going,  °  only  to  express 
Battles  in  model. 

Sil.  Then  he'll  fight  by  the  book.  20 

Delio.   By  the  almanac,  I  think. 
To  choose  good  days,  and  shun  the  critical ; 
That's  his  mistress'  scarf. 

Sil.  Yes,  he  protests 

He  would  do  much  for  that  taffeta. 

Delio.   I  think  he  would  run  away  from  a  battle. 
To  save  it  from  taking  prisoner. ° 

Sil.  He  is  horribly  afraid 

Gunpowder  will  spoil  the  perfume  on't. 

Delio.   I  saw  a  Dutchman  break  his  pate  once 
For  calling  him  pot-gun  ;  he  made  his  head 
Have  a  bore  in't  like  a  musket.  3° 

Sil.   I  would  he  had  made  a  touchhole  to't. 
He  is  indeed  a  guarded  sumpter-cloth. 
Only  for  the  remove  of  the  court. 

Enter  Bosola 

Pes.   Bosola  arrived  !   what  should  be  the  business  ? 
Some  falling  out  amongst  the  cardinals. 
These  factions  amongst  great  men,  they  are  hke 


196  THE   DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  [act  in 

Foxes,  when  their  heads  are  divided, 

They  carry  fire  in  their  tails,"  and  all  the  country 

About  them  goes  to  wrack  for't. 

^^7.  What's  that  Bosola?    39 

Delio.  I  knew  him  in  Padua,  —  a  fantastical  scholar, 
like  such  who  study  how  many  knots  was  in  Hercules' 
club,  of  what  colour  Achilles'  beard  was,  or  whether 
Hector  were  not  troubled  with  the  toothache.  He  hath 
studied  himself  half  blear-eyed  to  know  the  true  symmetry 
of  Caesar's  nose  by  a  shoeing-horn ;  and  this  he  did  to 
gain  the  name  of  a  speculative  man. 

Pes.  Mark  Prince  Ferdinand  : 
A  very  salamander  lives  in's  eye, 
To  mock  the  eager  violence  of  fire." 

Sil.  That  Cardinal  hath  made  more  bad  faces  with  his 
oppression  than  ever  Michael  Angelo  made  good  ones : 
he  lifts  up's  nose,  like  a  foul  porpoise  before  a  storm.     52 

Pes.   The  lord  Ferdinand  laughs. 

Delio.  Like  a  deadly  cannon, 

That  lightens  ere  it  smokes. 

Pes.   These  are  your  true  pangs  of  death, 
The  pangs  of  life,  that  struggle  with  great  statesmen. 

Delio.  In  such  a  deformed  silence,  witches  whisper 
Their  charms. 

Card.  Doth  she  make  religion  her  riding-hood 

To  keep  her  from  the  sun  and  tempest  ? 

Ferd.   That,  that  damns  her.     Methinks  her  fault  and 
beauty,  60 

Blended  together,  show  like  leprosy, 
The  whiter,  the  fouler.     I  make  it  a  question 
Whether  her  beggarly  brats  were  ever  christened. 

Card.   I  will  instantly  soUcit  the  state  of  Ancona 
To  have  them  banished. 

Ferd.  You  are  for  Loretto : 

I  shall  not  be  at  your  ceremony ;   fare  you  well. 
Write  to  the  Duke  of  Malfi,  my  young  nephew 
She  had  by  her  first  husband,  and  acquaint  him 


SCENE  IV]  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFl  197 

With's  mother's  honesty. 

Bos.  I  will. 

Ferd.  Antonio ! 

A  slave  that  only  smelled  of  ink  and  counters,  70 

And  never  in's  life  looked  like  a  gentleman, 
But  in  the  audit-time.      Go,  go  presently. 
Draw  me  out  an  hundred  and  fifty  of  our  horse, 
And  meet  me  at  the  fort-bridge.  [Exeunt. 

Scene   IV 

Enter  Two  Pilgrims  to  the  Shrine  oj  our  Lady  of  Loreito 

First  Pit.   I  have  not  seen  a  goodlier  shrine  than  this, 
Yet  I  have  visited  many. 

Second  Pil.  The  Cardinal  of  Arragon 

Is  this  day  to  resign  his  cardinal's  hat : 
His  sister  duchess  likewise  is  arrived 
To  pay  her  vow  of  pilgrimage.     I  expect 
A  noble  ceremony. 

First  Pil.  No  question.     They  come. 

[Here  the  ceremony  oj  the  Cardinal's  instalment,  in 
the  habit  of  a  soldier,  performed  in  delivering  up 
his  cross,  hat,  robes,  and  ring,  at  the  shrine,  and  in- 
vesting him  with  sword,  helmet,  shield,  and  spurs: 
then  Antonio,  the  Duchess,  and  their  children,  hav- 
ing presented  themselves  at  the  shrine,  are,  by  a  form 
of  banishment  in  dumb  show  expressed  towards 
them  by  the  Cardinal  and  the  state  of  Ancona, 
banished.  During  all  which  ceremony,  this  ditty 
is  sung,  to  very  solemn  music,  by  divers  churchmen, 
and  then  exeunt : 

Arms  and  honours  deck  thy  story ,° 

To  thy  fame's  eternal  glory : 

Adverse  fortune  ever  fly  thee ; 

No  disastrous  fate  come  nigh  thee.  10 


198  THE   DUCHESS   OF    MALFI  [act  hi 

I  alone  will  sing  thy  praises, 

Whom  to  honour  virtue  raises ; 

And  thy  study,  that  divine  is, 

Bent  to  martial  discipline  is. 

Lay  aside  all  those  robes  lie  by  thee ; 

Crown  thy  arts  with  arms,  they'll  beautify  thee. 

O     worthy     of     worthiest     name,     adorned     in     this 

manner, 
Lead    bravely    thy    forces    on,    under    war's    warlike 

banner ! 
O,  may'st  thou  prove  fortunate  in  all  martial  courses  ! 
Guide  thou  still  by  skill  in  arts  and  forces :  20 

Victory  attend  thee  nigh,  whilst  fame  sings  loud  thy 

powers ; 
Triumphant   conquest   crown   thy  head,   and  blessings 

pour  down  showers  ! 

First  Pil.   Here's  a  strange  turn  of  state  !   who  would 
have  thought 
So  great  a  lady  would  have  matched  herself 
Unto  so  mean  a  person  ?  yet  the  Cardinal 
Bears  him  much  too  cruel. 

Second  Pil.  They  are  banished. 

First  Pil.    But  I  would  ask  what  power  hath  this  state 
Of  Ancona,  to  determine  of  a  free  prince  ? 

Second  PH.   They  are  a  free  state,  sir,  and  her  brother 
showed 
How  that  the  Pope,  forehearing  of  her  looseness,  30 

Hath  seized  into  the  protection  of  the  church 
The  dukedom,  which  she  held  as  dowager. 

First  PH.    But  by  what  justice  ? 

Second  Pil.  Sure  I  think  by  none, 

Only  her  brother's  instigation. 

First  Pil.   What  was  it  with  such  violence  he  took 
Off  from  her  finger  ? 

Second  Pil.  'Twas  her  wedding  ring, 


SCKNK  v]  THE   DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  199 

Which  he  vowed  shortly  he  would  sacrifice 
To  his  revenge. 

First  Pil.  Alas,  Antonio  ! 

If  that  a  man  be  thrust  into  a  well, 
No  matter  who  sets  hand  to't,  his  own  weight  40 

Will  bring  him  sooner  to  th'  bottom.     Come,  let's  hence 
Fortune  makes  this  conclusion  general, 
All  things  do  help  th'  unhappy  man  to  fall.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  V° 

Enter    Duchess,    Antonio,     Children,     Cariola,    and 
Servants 

Duch.   Banished  Ancona  ! 

Ant.  Yes,  you  see  what  power 

Lightens  in  great  men's  breath. 

Duch.  Is  all  our  train 

Shrunk  to  this  poor  remainder? 

Ant.  These  poor  men, 

Which  have  got  little  in  your  service,  vow 
To  take  your  fortune  :  but  your  wiser  buntings, 
Now  they  are  fledged,  are  gone. 

Duch.  They  have  done  wisely. 

This  puts  me  in  mind  of  death :  physicians  thus, 
With  their  hands  full  of  money,  used  to  give  o'er 
Their  patients. 

Ant.  Right  the  fashion  of  the  world: 

From  decayed  fortunes  every  flatterer  shrinks ;  10 

Men  cease  to  build  where  the  foundation  sinks. 

Duch.   I  had  a  very  strange  dream  to-night. 

Ant.  What  was't  ? 

Dudi.   Methought  I  wore  my  coronet  of  state. 
And  on  a  sudden  all  the  diamonds 
Were  changed  to  pearls. 

Ant,  My  interpretation 


200  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  [act  hi 

Is,  you'll  weep  shortly ;  for  to  me  the  pearls 
Do  signify  your  tears. 

Duch.  The  birds  that  live  i'th'  field 

On  the  wild  benefit  of  nature,  live 
Happier  than  we ;  for  they  may  choose  their  mates, 
And  carol  their  sweet  pleasures  to  the  spring.  20 

Enter  Bosola  with  a  letter 

Bos.   You  are  happily  o'erta'en. 

Duch.  From  my  brother  ? 

Bos.   Yes,  from  the  lord  Ferdinand,  your  brother, 
All  love  and  safety. 

Duch.  Thou  dost  blanch  mischief, 

Would'st  make  it  white.     See,  see,  like  to  calm  weather 
At  sea  before  a  tempest,  false  hearts  speak  fair 
To  those  they  intend  most  mischief.         [Reads  the  letter. 
Send  Antonio  to  me;  I  want  his  head  in  a  business. 
A  politic  equivocation  ! 

He  doth  not  want  your  counsel,  but  your  head ; 
That  is,  he  cannot  sleep  till  you  be  dead.  30 

And  here's  another  pitfall  that's  strewed  o'er 
With  roses ;  mark  it,  'tis  a  cunning  one ; 
/  stand  engaged  for  your  husband,  for  several   debts   at 
Naples:    let  not  that  trouble  him;   I  had  rather  have  his 
heart  than  his  money: 
And  I  believe  so  too. 

Bos.  What  do  you  believe  ? 

Duch.   That  he  so  much  distrusts  my  husband's  love, 
He  will  by  no  means  believe  his  heart  is  with  him. 
Until  he  see  it :  the  devil  is  not  cunning  enough 
To  circumvent  us  in  riddles.  40 

Bos.   Will  you  reject  that  noble  and  free  league 
Of  amity  and  love,  which  I  present  you  ? 

Duch.   Their  league  is  like  that  of  some  politic  kings, 
Only  to  make  themselves  of  strength  and  power 
To  be  our  after-ruin :  tell  them  so. 


SCENE  v]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  20I 

Bos.   And  what  from  you  ? 

Ant.  Thus  tell  him  ;   I  will  not  come. 

Bos.   And  what  of  this  ?  ° 

Ant.  My  brothers  have  dispersed 

Bloodhounds  abroad ;   which  till  I  hear  are  muzzled, 
No  truce,  though  hatched  with  ne'er  such  politic  skill. 
Is  safe,  that  hangs  upon  our  enemies'  will.  5° 

I'll  not  come  at  them. 

Bos.  This  proclaims  your  breeding : 

Every  small  thing  draws  a  base  mind  to  fear. 
As  the  adamant  draws  iron.     Fare  you  well,  sir : 
You  shall  shortly  hear  from  's.  [Exit. 

Duch.  I  suspect  some  ambush : 

Therefore  by  all  my  love  I  do  conjure  you 
To  take  your  eldest  son,  and  fly  towards  Milan. 
Let  us  not  venture  all  this  poor  remainder, 
In  one  unlucky  bottom. 

Ant.  You  counsel  safely. 

Best  of  my  life,  farewell.     Since  we  must  part. 
Heaven  hath  a  hand  in't :  but  no  otherwise,  60 

Than  as  some  curious  artist  takes  in  sunder 
A  clock,  or  watch,  when  it  is  out  of  frame," 
To  bring't  in  better  order. 

Duch.   I  know  not  which  is  best. 
To  see  you  dead,  or  part  with  you.     Farewell,  boy : 
Thou  art  happy,  that  thou  hast  not  understanding 
To  know  thy  misery ;  for  all  our  wit 
And  reading  brings  us  to  a  truer  sense 
Of  sorrow.     In  the  eternal  church,  sir, 
I  do  hope  we  shall  not  part  thus. 

A  nt.  O,  be  of  comfort !     7° 

Make  patience  a  noble  fortitude. 
And  think  not  how  unkindly  we  are  used : 
Man,  like  to  cassia,  is  proved  best,  being  bruised. 

Duch.    Must  I,  like  to  a  slave-born  Russian, 
Account  it  praise  to  suffer  tyranny  ? 
And  yet,  0  Heaven,  thy  heavy  hand  is  in't ! 


202  THE   DUCHESS  OF  MALFI  [act  hi 

I  have  seen  my  little  boy  oft  scourge  his  top, 
And  compared  myself  to't :  nought  made  me  e'er 
Go  right  but  Heaven's  scourge-stick. 

Ant.  Do  not  weep: 

Heaven  fashioned  us  of  nothing ;  and  we  strive  80 

To  bring  ourselves  to  nothing.     Farewell,  Cariola, 
And  thy  sweet  armful.     If  I  do  never  see  thee  more, 
Be' a  good  mother  to  your  little  ones. 
And  save  them  from  the  tiger :  fare  you  well. 

Duch.   Let  me  look  upon  you  once  more,  for  that  speech 
Came  from  a  dying  father :  your  kiss  is  colder 
Than  that  I  have  seen  an  holy  anchorite 
Give  to  a  dead  man's  skull. 

Ant.   My  heart  is  turned  to  a  heavy  lump  of  lead. 
With  which  I  sound  my  danger :  fare  you  well.         [Exit. 

Duch.   My  laurel  is  all  withered.  91 

Cari.   Look,  madam,  what  a  troop  of  armed  men 
Make  toward  us. 

Enter  Bosola  and  Soldiers,  with  vizards 

Duch.  O,  they  are  very  welcome  ! 

When  fortune's  wheel  is  overcharged  with  princes. 
The  weight  makes  it  move  swift :  I  would  have  my  ruin 
Be  sudden.     I  am  your  adventure,  am  I  not  ? 

Bos.   You  are :   you  must  see  your  husband  no  more. 

Duch.   What  devil  art  thou,  that  counterfeits  Heaven's 
thunder  ? 

Bos.   Is  that  terrible?     I    would   have   you  tell  me 
whether 
Is  that  note  worse  that  frights  the  silly  birds  100 

Out  of  the  corn,  or  that  which  doth  allure  them 
To  the  nets?  you  have  hearkened  to  the  last  too  much. 

Duch.   O  misery  !   like  to  a  rusty  o'ercharged  cannon. 
Shall  I  never  ily  in  pieces  ?     Come,  to  what  prison  ? 

Bos.   To  none. 

Duch.  Whither,  then  ? 


SCENE  V]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  203 

Bos.  To  your  palace. 

Duch.  I  have  heard 

That  Charon's  boat  serves  to  convey  all  o'er 
The  dismal  lake,  but  brings  none  back  again. 

Bos.   Your  brothers  mean  you  safety  and  pity. 

Duch.  Pity ! 

With  such  a  pity  men  preserve  alive 
Pheasants  and  quails,  when  they  are  not  fat  enough     no 
To  be  eaten. 

Bos.  These  are  your  children  ? 

Duch.  Yes. 

Bos.  Can  they  prattle  ? 

Dtich.   No: 
But  I  intend,  since  they  were  born  accursed, 
Curses  shall  be  their  first  language. 

Bos.  Fie,  madam, 

Forget  this  base,  low  fellow. 

Duch.  Were  I  a  man, 

I'd  beat  that  counterfeit  face  "  into  thy  other. 

Bos.   One  of  no  birth. 

Duch.  Say  that  he  was  born  mean, 

Man  is  most  happy  when's  own  actions 
Be  arguments  and  examples  of  his  virtue. 

Bos.   A  barren,  beggarly  virtue.  120 

Duch.   I  prithee  who  is  greatest  ?  can  you  tell  ? 
Sad  tales  befit  my  woe :  I'll  tell  you  one. 
A  salmon,  as  she  swam  unto  the  sea, 
Met  with  a  dog-fish,  who  encounters  her 
With  this  rough  language :  Why  art  thou  so  bold 
To  mix  thyself  with  our  high  state  of  floods, 
Being  no  eminent  courtier,  but  one 
That  for  the  calmest,  and  fresh  time  o'th'  year 
Dost  live  in  shallow  rivers,  rank'st  thyself 
With  silly  smelts  and  shrimps  ?  and  darest  thou  130 

Pass  by  our  dog-ship  without  reverence  ? 
0,  quoth  the  salmon,  sister,  be  at  peace : 
Thank  Jupiter,  we  both  have  passed  the  net ! 


204  THE   DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  hi 

Our  value  never  can  be  truly  known, 
Till  in  the  fisher's  basket  we  be  shown : 
I'  th'  market  then  my  price  may  be  the  higher, 
Even  when  I  am  nearest  to  the  cook  and  fire. 
So  to  great  men  the  moral  may  be  stretched ; 
Men  oft  are  valued  high,  when  th'  are  most  wretched. 
But  come,  whither   you   please.     I   am   armed   'gainst 
misery ;  140 

Bent  to  all  sways  of  the  oppressor's  will : 
There's  no  deep  valley  but  near  some  great  hill. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   FOURTH 
Scene  I" 
Enter  Ferdinand  mid  Bosola 

Ferd.   How  doth  our  sister  duchess  bear  herself 
In  her  imprisonment  ? 

Bos.  Nobly :  I'll  describe  her. 

She's  sad,  as  one  long  used  to't,  and  she  seems 
Rather  to  welcome  the  end  of  misery, 
Than  shun  it ;  a  behaviour  so  noble, 
As  gives  a  majesty  to  adversity : 
You  may  discern  the  shape  of  loveliness 
More  perfect  in  her  tears  than  in  her  smiles : 
She  will  muse  for  hours  together ;  and  her  silence, 
Methinks,  expresseth  more  than  if  she  spake.  lo 

Ferd.   Her  melancholy  seems  to  be  fortified 
With  a  strange  disdain. 

Bos.  'Tis  so  ;  and  this  restraint, 

Like  English  mastiffs  that  grow  fierce  with  tying, 
Makes  her  too  passionately  apprehend 
Those  pleasures  she's  kept  from. 

Ferd.  Curse  upon  her  ! 

I  will  no  longer  study  in  the  book 
Of  another's  heart.     Inform  her  what  I  told  you.    [Exit. 

Enter  Duchess  and  Attendants 

Bos.   All  comfort  to  your  grace. 

Duch.  I  will  have  none. 

Pray  thee,  why  dost  thou  wrap  thy  poisoned  pills 
In  gold  and  sugar  ?  20 

Bos.   Your  elder  brother,  the  lord  Ferdinand, 
205 


2o6  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

Is  come  to  visit  you,  and  sends  you  word, 
'Cause  once  he  rashly  made  a  solemn  vow 
Never  to  see  you  more,  he  comes  i'  th'  night ; 
And  prays  you  gently  neither  torch  nor  taper 
Shine  in  your  chamber :  he  will  kiss  your  hand, 
And  reconcile  himself ;   but,  for  his  vow. 
He  dares  not  see  you. 

Duch.  At  his  pleasure. 

Take  hence  the  lights ;  he's  come. 

[Exeunt  Attendants  with  lights. 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferd.  Where  are  you  ? 

Duch.  Here,  sir. 

Ferd.   This  darkness  suits  you  well. 

Duch.  I  would  ask  your  pardon.   3° 

Ferd.   You  have  it ; 
For  I  account  it  the  honorabl'st  revenge. 
Where  I  may  kill,  to  pardon.     Where  are  your  cubs  ? 

Duch.   Whom  ? 

Ferd.  Call  them  your  children. 

For  though  our  national  law  distinguish  bastards 
From  true  legitimate  issue,  compassionate  nature 
Makes  them  all  equal. 

Duch.  Do  you  visit  me  for  this  ? 

You  violate  a  sacrament  o'  th'  church 
Shall  make  you  howl  in  hell  for't. 

Ferd.  It  had  been  well, 

Could  you  have  lived  thus  always ;  for  indeed,  40 

You  were  too  much  i'  th'  light  —  but  no  more ; 
I  come  to  seal  my  peace  with  you.     Here's  a  hand, 

[Gives  her  a  dead  nimi's  hand. 
To  which  you  have  vowed  much  love;  the  ring  upon't 
You  gave. 

Duch.        I  affectionately  kiss  it. 

Ferd.   Pray  do,  and  bury  the  print  of  it  in  your  heart. 


SCENE  I]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  207 

I  will  leave  this  ring  with  you,  for  a  love-token ; 
And  the  hand,  as  sure  as  the  ring ;  and  do  not  doubt 
But  you  shall  have  the  heart  too  :  when  you  need  a  friend, 
Send  it  to  him  that  owed  it ;  you  shall  see 
Whether  he  can  aid  you. 

Duch.  You  are  very  cold :  5° 

I  fear  you  are  not  well  after  your  travel. 
Ha  !  lights  !     0,  horrible  ! 

Ferd.  Let  her  have  lights  enough.  [Exit. 

Duch.   What    witchcraft   doth   he   practise,    that   he 
hath  left 
A  dead  man's  hand  here  ? 

[Here  is  discovered,  behind  a  traverse,  the  artificial 
figures  oj  Antonio  and-  his  children,  appearing 
as  if  they  were  dead. 

Bos.   Look  you,  here's  the  piece,  from  which  'twas 
ta'en. 
He  doth  present  you  this  sad  spectacle, 
That,  now  you  know  directly  they  are  dead, 
Hereafter  you  may  wisely  cease  to  grieve 
For  that  which  cannot  be  recovered. 

Duch.   There  is  not  between  heaven  and  earth  one  wish 
I  stay  for  after  this  :  it  wastes  me  more  6r 

Than  were't  my  picture,  fashioned  out  of  wax, 
Stuck  with  a  magical  needle,  and  then  buried 
In  some  foul  dunghill ;°  and  yond's  an  excellent  property 
For  a  tyrant,  which  I  would  account  mercy. 

Bos.  What's  that  ? 

Duch.   If  they  would  bind  me  to  that  lifeless  trunk. 
And  let  me  freeze  to  death. 

Bos.  Come,  you  must  live. 

Duch.   That's  the  greatest  torture  souls  feel  in  hell. 
In  hell  that  they  must  live,  and  cannot  die. 
Portia,"  I'll  new  kindle  thy  coals  again,  70 

And  revive  the  rare  and  almost  dead  example 
Of  a  loving  wife. 

Bos.  O  fie  !  despair  ?  remember 


2o8  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

You  are  a  Christian. 

Duch.  The  church  enjoins  fasting : 

I'll  starve  myself  to  death. 

Bos.  Leave  this  vain  sorrow. 

Things  being  at  the  worst,  begin  to  mend : 
The  bee  when  he  hath  shot  his  sting  into  your  hand, 
May  then  play  with  your  eyelid. 

Duch.  Good  comfortable  fellow  ! 

Persuade  a  wretch  that's  broke  upon  the  wheel 
To  have  all  his  bones  new  set ;  entreat  him  live 
To  be  executed  again.     Who  must  dispatch  me  ?  80 

I  account  this  world  a  tedious  theatre, 
For  I  do  play  a  part  in't  'gainst  my  will. 

Bos.   Come,  be  of  comfort ;   I  will  save  your  life. 

Duch.   Indeed  I  have  not  leisure  to  tend  so   small 
a  business. 

Bos.   Now,  by  my  life,  I  pity  you. 

Duch.  Thou  art  a  fool  then, 

To  waste  thy  pity  on  a  thing  so  wretched 
As  cannot  pity  itself.     I  am  full  of  daggers. 
Puff,  let  me  blow  these  vipers  from  me. 

Enter  Servant 

What  are  you  ? 

Serv.  One  that  wishes  you  long  life. 

Duch.   I   would   thou   wert   hanged   for  the  horrible 
curse  90 

Thou  hast  given  me.     I  shall  shortly  grow  one 

[Exit  Servant. 
Of  the  miracles  of  pity.     I'll  go  pray ;  no, 
I'll  go  curse. 

Bos.  O,  fie  ! 

Duch.  I  could  curse  the  stars. 

Bos.  O,  fearful ! 

Duch.   And  those  three  smiling  seasons  of  the  year 
Into  a  Russian  winter :  nay,  the  world 


SCENE  I]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  209 

To  its  first  chaos. 

Bos.  Look  you,  the  stars  shine  still. 

Duch.   O,  but  you  must  remember,  my  curse  hath  a 
great  way  to  go  :  — 
Plagues,  that  make  lanes  through  largest  families, 
Consume  them  ! 

Bos.  Fie,  lady! 

Duch.  Let  them  like  tyrants 

Never  be  remembered,  but  for  the  ill  they  have  done ;   100 
Let  all  the  zealous  prayers  of  mortified 
Churchmen  forget  them  ! 

Bos.  O,  uncharitable  ! 

Duch.   Let    Heaven,    a    little    while,    cease   crowning 
martyrs. 
To  punish  them  ! 

Go,  howl  them  this,  and  say,  I  long  to  bleed : 
It  is  some  mercy  when  men  kill  with  speed.  [Exii. 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferd.   Excellent,  as  I  would  wish ;  she's  plagued  in  art : 
These  presentations  are  but  framed  in  wax. 
By  the  curious  master  in  that  quality, 
Vincentio  Lauriola,  and  she  takes  them  no 

For  true  substantial  bodies.  •?  ^_  , 

Bos.  Why  do  you  do  this  ?  r-^^  ^^ 

Ferd.   To  bring  her  to  despair.  C^  ^^4^^Cu>f  n^c± 

Bos.  'Faith,  end  here, /<r^  jl^^^^^h^Z* 

And  go  no  farther  in  your  cruelty ;  ' 

Send  her  a  penitential  garment  to  put  on 
Next  to  her  delicate  skin,  and  furnish  her  ,      ^, 

With  beads,  and  prayer-books.  jU^^  i-^<^ 

Ferd.  Damn  her  !  tjiat_body  of  hers,<^  ^^-^^ 

While  that  my  blood  ran  pure  in't,  was  more  worth  */  *^ 
Than  that  which  thou  wouldst  comfort,  called  a  soul. 
I  will  send  her  masks  of  common  courtesans, 
Have  her  meat  served  up  by  bawds  and  ruffians,  120 


2IO  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

And,  'cause  she'll  needs  be  mad,  I  am  resolved 

To  remove  forth  the  common  hospital 

All  the  mad-folk,  and  place  them  near  her  lodging; 

There  let  them  practise  together,  sing  and  dance, 

And  act  their  gambols  to  the  full  o'  th'  moon : 

If  she  can  sleep  the  better  for  it,  let  her. 

Your  work  is  almost  ended. 

Bos.  Must  I  see  her  again  ? 

Ferd.   Yes. 

Bos.  Never. 

Ferd.  You  must. 

Bos.  Never  in  mine  own  shape ; 

That's  forfeited  by  my  intelligence," 
And  this  last  cruel  lie :  when  you  send  me  next,  13° 

The  business  shall  be  comfort. 

Ferd.  Very  likely  ; 

Thy  pity  is  notliing  of  kin  to  thee.     Antonio 
Lurks  about  Milan :  thou  shalt  shortly  thither. 
To  feed  a  fire  as  great  as  my  revenge  ; 
Which  never  will  slack  till  it  have  spent  his  fuel : 
Intemperate  agues  make  physicians  cruel.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  11° 
Enter  Duchess  and  Cariola 

Duch.   What  hideous  noise  was  that  ? 

Cart.  'Tis  the  wild  consort 

Of  madmen,  lady,  which  your  tyrant  brother 
Hath  placed  about  your  lodging :  this  tyranny, 
I  think,  was  never  practised  till  this  hour. 

Duch.   Indeed,  I  thank  him:    nothing  but  noise  and 
folly 
Can  keep  me  in  my  right  wits ;  whereas  reason 
And  silence  make  me  stark  mad.     Sit  down ; 
Discourse  to  me  some  dismal  tragedy. 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  211 

Cari.   0,  'twill  increase  your  melancholy. 

Duck.  Thou  art  deceived : 

To  hear  of  greater  grief  would  lessen  mine.  lo 

Tliis  is  a  prison. 

Cari.  Yes,  but  you  shall  live 

To  shake  this  durance  off. 

Duch.  Thou  art  a  fool : 

The  robin  redbreast  and  the  nightingale 
Never  Uve  long  in  cages. 

Cari.  Pray,  dry  your  eyes : 

What  think  you  of,  madam  ? 

Duch.  Of  nothing ; 

When  I  muse  thus,  I  sleep. 

Cari.   Like  a  madman,  with  your  eyes  open  ? 

Duch.   Dost  thou  think  we  shall  know  one  another 
In  th'  other  world  ? 

Cari.  Yes,  out  of  question. 

Duch.   0,  that  it  were  possible  we  might  20 

But  hold  some  two  days'  conference  with  the  dead  ! 
From  them  I  should  learn  somewhat,  I  am  sure, 
I  never  shall  know  here.     I'll  tell  thee  a  miracle ; 
I  am  not  mad  yet,  to  my  cause  of  sorrow :  ° 
Th'  Heaven  o'er  my  head  seems  made  of  molten  brass, 
The  earth  of  flaming  sulphur,  yet  I  am  not  mad. 
I  am  acquainted  with  sad  misery. 
As  the  tanned  galley-slave  is  with  his  oar ; 
Necessity  makes  me  suffer  constantly, 
And    custom    makes    it    easy.     Who    do   I   look  Uke 
now  ?  30 

Cari.   Like  to  your  picture  in  the  gallery, 
A  deal  of  Uf e  in  show,  but  none  in  practice ; 
Or  rather  like  some  reverend  monument 
Whose  ruins  are  even  pitied. 

Duch.  Very  proper ; 

And  fortune  seems  only  to  have  her  eyesight, 
To  behold  my  tragedy.     How  now  ! 
What  noise  is  that  ? 


212  THE    DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

Enter  Servant 

Serv.  I  am  come  to  tell  you, 

Your  brother  hath  intended  you  some  sport. 
A  great  physician,  when  the  Pope  was  sick 
Of  a  deep  melancholy,  presented  him  4° 

With  several  sorts  of  madmen,  which  wild  object 
Being  full  of  change  and  sport,  forced  him  to  laugh, 
And  so  th'  impostume  broke :   the  selfsame  cure 
The  duke  intends  on  you. 

Duch.  Let  them  come  in. 

Enter  Madmen 

Serv.   There's  a  mad  lawyer ;  and  a  secular  priest ; 
A  doctor,  that  hath  forfeited  his  wits 
By  jealousy ;  an  astrologian, 
That  in  his  works  said,  such  a  day  o'  th'  month 
Should  be  the  day  of  doom,  and  failing  oft. 
Ran  mad ;  an  Enghsh  tailor,  crazed  i'  th'  brain  so 

With  the  study  of  new  fashions ;  a  gentleman  usher, 
Quite  beside  himself  with  care  to  keep  in  mind 
The  number  of  his  lady's  salutations, 
Or  "how  do  you,"  she  employed  him  in  each  morning; 
A  farmer  too,  an  excellent  knave  in  grain," 
Mad  'cause  he  was  hindered  transportation  ; " 
And  let  one  broker  that's  mad  loose  to  these, 
You'd  think  the  devil  were  among  them. 

Duc/l   Sit,  Cariola.     Let  them  loose  when  you  please, 
For  I  am  chained  to  endure  all  your  tyranny.  60 

Here  by  a  madman  this  Song  is  sung,  to  a  dismal  kind 
of  music 

O,  let  us  howl  some  heavy  note, 

Some  deadly  dogged  howl, 
Sounding,  as  from  the  threatening  throat 

Of  beasts  and  fatal  fowl ! 


SCENK  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  21 3 

As  ravens,  screech-owls,  bulls,  and  bears, 

We'll  bell,  and  bawl  our  parts. 
Till  irksome  noise  have  cloyed  your  ears, 

And  corrasived  your  hearts. 
At  last,  whenas  our  cjuire  wants  breath. 

Our  bodies  being  blest,  70 

We'll  sing,  like  swans,  to  welcome  death, 

And  die  in  love  and  rest. 

First  Madman.  Doomsday  not  come  yet !  I'll  draw 
it  nearer  by  a  perspective,  or  make  a  glass  that  shall  set 
all  the  world  on  fire  upon  an  instant.  I  cannot  sleep; 
my  pillow  is  stuffed  with  a  litter  of  porcupines. 

Second  Madman.  Hell  is  a  mere  glass-house,  where 
the  devils  are  continually  blowing  up  women's  souls  on 
hollow  irons,  and  the  fire  never  goes  out.  79 

Third  Madman.  I  will  lie  with  every  woman  in  my  par- 
ish the  tenth  night ;  I  will  tithe  them  over  like  haycocks. 

Fourth  Madman.  Shall  my  'pothecary  outgo  me,  be- 
cause I  am  a  cuckold?  I  have  found  out  his  roguery; 
he  makes  alum  of  his  wife's  urine,  and  sells  it  to  Puri- 
tans that  have  sore  throats  with  overstraining." 

First  Madman.   I  have  skill  in  heraldry. 

Second  Madman.   Hast  ? 

First  Madman.  You  do  give  for  your  crest  a  wood- 
cock's head,  with  the  brains  picked  out  on't ;  you  are  a 
very  ancient  gentleman."  9° 

Third  Madman.  Greek  is  turned  Turk :  we  are  only 
to  be  saved  by  the  Helvetian  translation." 

First  Madman.    Come  on,  sir,  I  will  lay  the  law  to  you. 

Second  Madman.  0,  rather  lay  a  corrasive ;  the  law 
will  eat  to  the  bone. 

Third  Madman.  He  that  drinks  but  to  satisfy  nature, 
is  damned. 

Fourth  Madman.  If  I  had  my  glass  here,  I  would 
show  a  sight  should  make  all  the  women  here  call  me 
mad  doctor.  100 


214  THE   DUCHESS   OF  MALFI  [act  iv 

First  Madman.   What's  he,  a  rope-maker  ? 
Second  Madman.   No,  no,  no,  a  snuffling  knave,  that 
while  he  shows  the  tombs,  will  have  his  hand  in  a  wench's 
placket. 

Third  Madman.  Woe  to  the  caroche,  that  brought 
home  my  wife  from  the  mask  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  !  it  had  a  large  featherbed  in  it. 

Fourth  Madman.   I  have  pared  the  devil's  nails  forty 

times,  roasted  them  in  raven's  eggs,  and  cured  agues 

with  them.  no 

Third  Madman.   Get  me  three  hundred  milch  bats, 

to  make  possets  to  procure  sleep. 

Fourth  Madman.  All  the  college  may  throw  their 
caps  at  me ;  I  have  made  a  soapboiler  costive :  it  was 
my  masterpiece. 

[Here  the  dance,  consisting  of   eight  madmen,  with 
music  answerable  thereunto ;  after  which,  Bosola, 
like  an  old  man,  enters. 
Duch.   Is  he  mad  too  ? 

Sen).  Pray  question  him.     I'll  leave  you. 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  Duchess  and  Bosola. 
Bos.  I  am  come  to  make  thy  tomb. 
Duch.  Ha  !  my  tomb  ! 

Thou  speak'st  as  if  I  lay  upon  my  death-bed. 
Gasping  for  breath :  dost  thou  perceive  me  sick  ? 
Bos.   Yes,  and  the  more  dangerously,  since  thy  sickness 
is  insensible.  120 

Duch.  Thou  art  not  mad,  sure :  dost  know  me  ? 
Bos.  Yes. 

Duch.  Who  am  I  ? 

Bos.  Thou  art  a  box  of  worm-seed,  at  best  but  a  sal- 
vatory  of  green  mummy.  What's  this  flesh?  a  little 
crudded  milk  fantastical  puff-paste.  Our  bodies  are 
weaker  than  those  paper-prisons  boys  use  to  keep  flies  in; 
more  contemptible,  since  ours  is  to  preserve  earthworms. 
Didst  thou  ever  see  a  lark  in  a  cage  ?  Such  is  the  soul  in 
the  body :  this  world  is  like  her  little  turf  of  grass,  and 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  21 5 

the  Heaven  o'er  our  heads,  like  her  looking-glass,  only 
gives  us  a  miserable  knowledge  of  the  small  compass  of 
our  prison.  131 

Duck.   Am  not  I  thy  duchess  ? 

Bos.  Thou  art  some  great  woman,  sure,  for  riot  begins 
to  sit  on  thy  forehead  (clad  in  grey  hairs)  twenty  years 
sooner  than  on  a  merry  milkmaid's.  Thou  sleepest 
worse  than  if  a  mouse  should  be  forced  to  take  up  her 
lodging  in  a  cat's  ear :  a  httle  infant  that  breeds  its 
teeth,  should  it  lie  with  thee,  would  cry  out,  as  if  thou 
wert  the  more  unquiet  bedfellow. 

Duck.   I  am  Duchess  of  Malfi  still.  140 

Bos.   That  makes  thy  sleep  so  broken : 
Glories,  like  glowworms,  afar  off  shine  bright, 
But  looked  to  near,  have  neither  heat  nor  light. 

Duch.   Thou  art  very  plain. 

Bos.  My  trade  is  to  flatter  the  dead,  not  the  living; 
I  am  a  tomb-maker. 

Duch.   And  thou  com'st  to  make  my  tomb  ? 

Bos.   Yes. 

Duch.   Let  me  be  a  little  merry : 
Of  what  stuff  wilt  thou  make  it?  150 

Bos.   Nay,  resolve  me  first,  of  what  fashion  ? 

Duch.  Why,  do  we  grow  fantastical  in  our  death-bed  ? 
Do  we  affect  fashion  in  the  grave  ? 

Bos.   Most    ambitiously.     Princes'    images    on    their 
tombs 
Do  not  Ue,  as  they  were  wont,  seeming  to  pray 
Up  to  Heaven ;  but  with  their  hands  under  their  cheeks, 
As  if  they  died  of  the  toothache  :  they  are  not  carved 
With  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  stars ;  but  as 
Their  minds  were  wholly  bent  upon  the  world. 
The  selfsame  way  they  seem  to  turn  their  faces.  160 

Duch.   Let  me  know  fully,  therefore,  the  effect 
Of  this  thy  dismal  preparation. 
This  talk,  fit  for  a  charnel. 

Bos.  Now  I  shall : 


2l6  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

Enter  Executioners  with  a  coffin,  cords,  and  bell. 

Here  is  a  present  from  your  princely  brothers, 
And  may  it  arrive  welcome,  for  it  brings 
Last  benefit,  last  sorrow. 

Duch.  Let  me  see  it : 

I  have  so  much  obedience  in  my  blood, 
I  wish  it  in  their  veins  to  do  them  good. 

Bos.   This  is  your  last  presence-chamber. 

Cari.   0  my  sweet  lady  ! 

Duch.  Peace ;  it  affrights  not  me. 

Bos.   I  am  the  common  bellman,  171 

That  usually  is  sent  to  condemned  persons 
The  night  before  they  suffer. 

Duch.  Even  now 

Thou  said'st  thou  wast  a  tomb-maker. 

Bos.  'Twas  to  bring  you 

By  degrees  to  mortification.     Listen :  [Dirge. 

Hark,  now  everything  is  still. 

The  screech-owl,  and  the  whistler  shrill, 

Call  upon  our  dame  aloud, 

And  bid  her  quickly  don  her  shroud  ! 

Much  you  had  of  land  and  rent ;  180 

Your  length  in  clay's  now  competent : 

A  long  war  disturbed  your  mind ; 

Here  your  perfect  peace  is  signed. 

Of  what  is't  fools  make  such  vain  keeping  ? 

Sin  their  conception,  their  birth,  weeping ; 

Their  life,  a  general  mist  of  error. 

Their  death,  a  hideous  storm  of  terror. 

Strew  your  hair  with  powders  sweet, 

Don  clean  linen,  bathe  your  feet, 

And  (the  foul  fiend  more  to  check)  19° 

A  crucifix  let  bless  your  neck : 

'Tis  now  full  tide  'tween  night  and  day ; 

End  your  groan,  and  come  away. 


SCENE  ii]  THE    DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  2 17 

Cari.   Hence,  villains,  tyrants,  murderers  !  alas  ! 
What  will  you  do  with  my  lady  ?  —  Call  for  help. 

Duck.   To  whom,  to  our  next  neighbours?    they  are 
mad-folks. 

Bos.   Remove  that  noise. 

Duch.  Farewell,  Cariola. 

In  my  last  will,  I  have  not  much  to  give : 
A  many  hungry  guests  have  fed  upon  me ; 
Thine  will  be  a  poor  reversion. 

Cari.  1  will  die  with  her.     200 

Duch.   I  pray  thee,  look  thou  giv'st  my  little  boy 
Some  syrup  for  his  cold,  and  let  the  girl 
Say  her  prayers  ere  she  sleep.  —  Now  what  you  please : 

[Cariola  is  forced  out. 
What  death  ? 

Bos.    Strangling ;  here  are  your  executioners. 

Duch.   I  forgive  them : 
The  apoplexy,  catarrh,  or  cough  o'  th'  lungs, 
Would  do  as  much  as  they  do. 

Bos.   Doth  not  death  fright  you  ? 

Duch.  Who  would  be  afraid  on't. 

Knowing  to  meet  such  excellent  company  210 

In  th'  other  world  ? 

Bos.  Yet,  methinks. 

The  manner  of  your  death  should  much  afflict  you ; 
This  cord  should  terrify  you. 

Duch.  Not  a  whit : 

What  would  it  pleasure  me  to  have  my  throat  cut 
With  diamonds  ?  or  to  be  smothered 
With  cassia  ?  or  to  be  shot  to  death  with  pearls  ? 
I  know  death  hath  ten  thousand  several  doors 
For  men  to  take  their  exits ;  and  'tis  found 
They  go  on  such  strange  geometrical  hinges," 
You  may  open  them  both  ways :    any  way,  for  Heaven 
sake,  230 

So  I  were  out  of  your  whispering.     Tell  my  brothers. 
That  I  perceive  death,  now  I  am  well  awake, 


2l8  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

Best  gift  is  they  can  give,  or  I  can  take. 
I  would  fain  put  off  my  last  woman's  fault, 
I'd  not  be  tedious  to  you. 

Execut.  We  are  ready. 

Duch.   Dispose  my  breath  how  please  you,  but  my 
body 
Bestow  upon  my  women,  will  you  ? 

Execut.  Yes. 

Duch.   Pull,  and  pull  strongly,  for  your  able  strength, 
Must  pull  down  Heaven  upon  me : 

Yet  stay,  heaven-gates  are  not  so  highly  arched  230 

As  princes'  palaces ;  they  that  enter  there 
Must  go  upon  their  knees.     Come,  violent  death, 
Serve  for  mandragora,  to  make  me  sleep  1 
Go,  tell  my  brothers,  when  I  am  laid  out. 
They  then  may  feed  in  quiet.  [They  strangle  her. 

Bos.   Where's  the  waiting- woman  ? 
Fetch  her :  some  other  strangle  the  children. 

Enter  Cariola 

Look  you,  there  sleeps  your  mistress. 

Cari.  O,  you  are  damned 

Perpetually  for  this  !  My  turn  is  next ; 
Is't  not  so  ordered  ? 

Bos.  Yes,  and  I  am  glad  240 

You  are  so  well  prepared  for't. 

Cari.  You  are  deceived,  sir, 

I  am  not  prepared  for't ;  I  will  not  die : 
I  will  first  come  to  my  answer,  and  know 
How  I  have  offended. 

Bos.  Come,  dispatch  her. 

You  kept  her  counsel,  now  you  shall  keep  ours. 

Cari.   I  will  not  die,  I  must  not ;  I  am  contracted 
To  a  young  gentleman. 

Execut.  Here's  your  wedding-ring. 

Cari.   Let  me  but  speak  with  the  duke ;  I'll  discover 


SCENE  II]  THE  DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  219 

Treason  to  his  person. 

Bos.  Delays :  —  throttle  her. 

Execut.   She  bites  and  scratches. 

Cari.  If  you  kill  me  now, 

I  am  damned ;  I  have  not  been  at  confession  251 

This  two  years. 

Bos.  When  ? 

Cari.  I  am  quick  with  child. 

Bos.  Why  then, 

Your  credit's  saved.  —  Bear  her  into  the  next  room  ; 
Let  this  he  still."  [They  strangle  Cariola. 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferd.  Is  she  dead  ? 

Bos.  She  is  what 

You'd  have  her.     But  here  begin  your  pity : 

[Shows  the  cnildren^  strangled. 
Alas  !  how  have  these  offended  ? 

Ferd.  The  death 

Of  young  wolves  is  never  to  be  pitied. 

Bos.   Fix  your  eye  here. 

Ferd.  Constantly. 

Bos.  Do  you  not  weep  ? 

Other  sins  only  speak  ;    murder  shrieks  out : 
The  element  of  water  moistens  the  earth,  260 

But  blood  flies  upwards  and  bedews  the  Heavens. 

Ferd.    Cover  her  face ;    mine  eyes  dazzle :    she  died 
young. 

Bos.   I  think  not  so ;  her  infeHcity 
Seemed  to  have  years  too  many. 

Ferd.   She  and  I  were  twins ; 
And  should  I  die  this  instant,  I  had  lived 
Her  time  to  a  minute. 

Bos.  It  seems  she  was  born  first : 

You  have  bloodily  approved  the  ancient  truth, 
That  kindred  commonly  do  worse  agree 


220  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  iv 

Than  remote  strangers. 

Ferd.  Let  me  see  her  face  again.     270 

Why  didst  not  thou  pity  her  ?  what  an  excellent 
Honest  man  might'st  thou  have  been 
If  thou  hadst  borne  her  to  some  sanctuary ; 
Or,  bold  in  a  good  cause,  opposed  thyself, 
With  thy  advanced  sword  above  thy  head, 
Between  her  innocence  and  my  revenge! 
I  bade  thee,  when  I  was  distracted  of  my  wits. 
Go  kill  my  dearest  friend,  and  thou  hast  done't. 
For  let  me  but  examine  well  the  cause  : 
What  was  the  meanness  of  her  match  to  me  ?  280 

Only  I  must  confess  I  had  a  hope, 
Had  she  continued  widow,  to  have  gained 
An  infinite  mass  of  treasure  by  her  death ; 
And  that  was  the  main  cause,  her  marriage. 
That  drew  a  stream  of  gall  quite  through  my  heart. 
For  thee,  as  we  observe  in  tragedies 
That  a  good  actor  many  times  is  cursed 
For  playing  a  villain's  part,  I  hate  thee  for't. 
And  for  my  sake  say  thou  hast  done  much  ill,  well. 

Bos.   Let  me  quicken  your  memory,  for  I  perceive 
You  are  faUing  into  ingratitude ;  I  challenge  291 

The  reward  due  to  my  service. 

Ferd.  I'll  tell  thee 

What  I'll  give  thee. 

Bos.  Do. 

Ferd.  I'll  give  thee  a  pardon 

For  this  murder. 

Bo'^.  Ha ! 

Ferd.  Yes,  and  'tis 

The  largest  bounty  I  can  study  to  do  thee. 
By  what  authority  didst  thou  execute 
This  bloody  sentence  ? 

Bos.  By  yours. 

Ferd.   Mine  !  was  I  her  judge  ? 
Did  any  ceremonial  form  of  law. 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  221 

Doom  her  to  not  being  ?  did  a  complete  jury  300 

Deliver  her  conviction  up  i'th'  court  ? 

Where  shalt  thou  find  this  judgement  registered, 

Unless  in  hell  ?     See,  like  a  bloody  fool, 

Th'  hast  forfeited  thy  life,  and  thou  shalt  die  for't. 

Bos.   The  office  of  justice  is  perverted  quite. 
When  one  thief  hangs  another.     Who  shall  dare 
To  reveal  this  ? 

Ferd.  0,  I'll  tell  thee ; 

The  wolf  shall  find  her  grave,  and  scrape  it  up, 
Not  to  devour  the  corpse,  but  to  discover 
The  horrid  murder. 

Bos.  You,  not  I,  shall  quake  for't.       31° 

Ferd.   Leave  me. 

Bos.  I  will  first  receive  my  pension. 

Ferd,   You  are  a  villain. 

Bos.  When  your  ingratitude 

Is  judge,  I  am  so. 

Ferd.  0  horror. 

That  not  the  fear  of  him,  which  binds  the  devils, 
Can  prescribe  man  obedience  ! 
Never  look  upon  me  more. 

Bos.  Why,  fare  thee  well : 

Your  brother  and  yourself  are  worthy  men : 
You  have  a  pair  of  hearts  are  hollow  graves. 
Rotten,  and  rotting  others ;  and  your  vengeance, 
Like  two  chained  bullets,  still  goes  arm  in  arm.  32° 

You  may  be  brothers ;  for  treason,  like  the  plague. 
Doth  take  much  in  a  blood."     I  stand  like  one 
That  long  hath  ta'en  a  sweet  and  golden  dream : 
I  am  angry  with  myself,  now  that  I  wake. 

Ferd.    Get  thee  into  some  unknown  part  o'th'  world. 
That  I  may  never  see  thee. 

Bos.  Let  me  know 

Wherefore  I  should  be  thus  neglected.     Sir, 
I  served  your  tyranny,  and  rather  strove, 
To  satisfy  yourself,  than  all  the  world : 


222  THE   DUCHESS    OF  MALFI  [act  iv 

And  though  I  loathed  the  evil,  yet  I  loved  330 

You  that  did  counsel  it;  and  rather  sought 
To  appear  a  true  servant,  than  an  honest  man. 

Ferd.   I'll  go  hunt  the  badger  by  owl-light: 
'Tis  a  deed  of  darkness.  {Exit. 

Bos.    He's  much  distracted.     Off,  my  painted  honour! 
While  with  vain  hopes  our  faculties  we  tire. 
We  seem  to  sweat  in  ice  and  freeze  in  fire. 
What  would  I  do,  were  this  to  do  again  ? 
I  would  not  change  my  peace  of  conscience 
For  all  the  wealth  of  Europe.     She  stirs;  here's  life:  — 
Return,  fair  soul,  from  darkness,  and  lead  mine  341 

Out  of  this  sensible  hell:  —  she's  warm,  she  breathes:  — 
Upon  thy  pale  lips  I  will  melt  my  heart. 
To  store  them  with  fresh  colour.  —  Who's  there! 
Some  cordial  drink!     Alas!  I  dare  not  call: 
So  pity  would  destroy  pity.     Her  eye  opes," 
And  Heaven  in  it  seems  to  ope,  that  late  was  shut, 
To  take  me  up  to  mercy. 

Duch.   Antonio ! 

Bos.  Yes,  madam,  he  is  living; 

The  dead  bodies  you  saw,  were  but  feigned  statues;  350 
He's  reconciled  to  your  brothers;  the  Pope  hath  wrought 
The  atonement. 

Duch.  Mercy!  [She  dies. 

Bos.    0,  she's  gone  again!  there  the  cords  of  life  broke. 
O  sacred  innocence,  that  sweetly  sleeps 
On  turtles'  feathers,  whilst  a  guilty  conscience 
Is  a  black  register,  wherein  is  writ 
All  our  good  deeds  and  bad,  a  perspective 
That  shows  us  hell!     That  we  cannot  be  suffered 
To  do  good  when  we  have  a  mind  to  it! 
This  is  manly  sorrow;  360 

These  tears,  I  am  very  certain,  never  grew 
In  my  mother's  milk:  my  estate  is  sunk 
Below  the  degree  of  fear:  where  were 
These  penitent  fountains,  while  she  was  living  ? 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  223 

0,  they  were  frozen  up  !     Here  is  a  sight 

As  direful  to  my  soul,  as  is  the  sword 

Unto  a  wretch  hath  slain  his  father. 

Come,  I'll  bear  thee  hence. 

And  execute  thy  last  will ;  that's  deliver 

Thy  body  to  the  reverend  dispose  370 

Of  some  good  women :   that,  the  cruel  tyrant 

Shall  not  deny  me.     Then  I'll  post  to  Milan, 

Where  somewhat  I  will  speedily  enact 

Worth  my  dejection.  [Exit. 


ACT  THE   FIFTH 

Scene  I " 

Enter  Antonio  and  Delio 

Ant.   What  think  you  of  my  hope  of  reconcilement 
To  the  Arragonian  brethren  ? 

Delio.  I  misdoubt  it ; 

For  though  they  have  sent  their  letters  of  safe  conduct 
For  your  repair  to  Milan,  they  appear 
But  nets  to  entrap  you.     The  Marquis  of  Pescara, 
Under  whom  you  hold  certain  land  in  cheat," 
Much  'gainst  his  noble  nature  hath  been  moved 
To  seize  those  lands,  and  some  of  his  dependents 
Are  at  this  instant  making  it  their  suit 
To  be  invested  in  your  revenues."  lo 

I  cannot  think  they  mean  well  to  your  life, 
That  do  deprive  you  of  your  means  of  life. 
Your  living. 

Ant.  You  are  still  an  heretic 

To  any  safety  I  can  shape  myself. 

Delio.   Here  comes  the  marquis :   I  will  make  myself 
Petitioner  for  some  part  of  your  land, 
To  know  whither  it  is  flying. 

Ant.  I  pray  do. 

Enter  Pescara 

Delia.   Sir,  I  have  a  suit  to  you. 
Pes.  To  me  ? 

Delio.  An  easy  one : 

There  is  the  citadel  of  St.  Rennet," 

224 


SCENE  I]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  22$ 

With  some  demesnes,  of  late  in  the  possession  20 

Of  Antonio  Bologna,  —  please  you  bestow  them  on  me. 

Pes.    You  arc  my  friend ;  but  this  is  such  a  suit, 
Nor  fit  for  me  to  give,  nor  you  to  take. 

Delio.   No,  sir  ? 

Pes.  I  will  give  you  ample  reason  for't, 

Soon  in  private :  here's  the  Cardinal's  mistress. 

Enter  Julia 

Julia.   My  lord,  I  am  grown  your  poor  petitioner, 
And  should  be  an  ill  beggar,  had  I  not 
A  great  man's  letter  here,  the  Cardinal's, 
To  court  you  in  my  favour. 

Pes.  He  entreats  for  you 

The  citadel  of  St.  Bennet,  that  belonged  30 

To  the  banished  Bologna. 

Julia.  Yes. 

Pes.   I  could  not  have  thought  of  a  friend  I  could 
Rather  pleasure  with  it :  'tis  yours. 

Julia.  Sir,  I  thank  you ; 

And  he  shall  know  how  doubly  I  am  engaged 
Both  in  your  gift,  and  speediness  of  giving, 
Which  makes  your  grant  the  greater.  [Exit. 

A)it.      [Aside.]  How  they  fortify 

Themselves  with  my  ruin  ! 

Delio.  Sir,  I  am 

Little  bound  to  you. 

Pes.  Why  ? 

Delio.   Because  you  denied  this  suit  to  me,  and  gave't 
To  such  a  creature. 

Pes.  Do  you  know  what  it  was  ?  4 

It  was  Antonio's  land  ;  not  forfeited 
By  course  of  law,  but  ravished  from  his  throat 
By  the  Cardinal's  entreaty :  it  were  not  fit 
I  should  bestow  so  main  a  piece  of  wrong 
Upon  my  friend ;  'tis  a  gratification, 


226  THE   DUCHESS   OF  MALFl  [act  v 

Only  due  to  a  strumpet,  for  it  is  injustice. 

Shall  I  sprinkle  the  pure  blood  of  innocents 

To  make  those  followers  I  call  my  friends 

Look  ruddier  upon  me  ?     I  am  glad 

This  land,  ta'en  from  the  owner  by  such  wrong,  50 

Returns  again  unto  so  foul  an  use, 

As  salary  for  his  lust.     Learn,  good  Delio, 

To  ask  noble  things  of  me,  and  you  shall  find 

I'll  be  a  noble  giver. 

Delio.  You  instruct  me  well. 

Ant.  [Aside.]   Why,  here's  a  man  now,  would  fright 
impudence 
From  sauciest  beggars. 

Pes.  Prince  Ferdinand's  come  to  Milan, 

Sick,  as  they  give  out,  of  an  apoplexy ; 
But  some  say,  'tis  a  frenzy :  I  am  going 
To  visit  him.  [Exit. 

Ant.  'Tis  a  noble  old  fellow. 

Delio.   What  course  do  you  mean  to  take,  Antonio  ?  60 

Ant.   This  night  I  mean  to  venture  all  my  fortune. 
Which  is  no  more  than  a  poor  lingering  life, 
To  the  Cardinal's  worst  of  malice :  I  have  got 
Private  access  to  his  chamber ;  and  intend 
To  visit  him  about  the  mid  of  night. 
As  once  his  brother  did  our  noble  duchess. 
It  may  be  that  the  sudden  apprehension 
Of  danger,  for  I'll  go  in  mine  own  shape, 
When  he  shall  see  it  fraught  with  love  and  duty. 
May  draw  the  poison  out  of  him,  and  work  7° 

A  friendly  reconcilement :  if  it  fail. 
Yet  it  shall  rid  me  of  this  infamous  calling ; 
For  better  fall  once,  than  be  ever  falling. 

Delio.   I'll  second  you  in  all  danger,  and,  howe'er ; 
My  life  keeps  rank  with  yours. 

Ant.   You  are  still  my  loved  and  best  friend. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  22/ 

Scene  II" 
Enter  Pescara  and  Doctor 

Pes.   Now,  doctor,  may  I  visit  your  patient  ? 

Doc.   If't  please  your  lordship  :  but  he's  instantly 
To  take  the  air  here  in  the  gallery 
By  my  direction. 

Pes.  Pray  thee,  what's  his  disease  ? 

Doc.   A  very  pestilent  disease,  my  lord, 
They  call  lycanthropia." 

Pes.  What's  that  ? 

I  need  a  dictionary  to't  ? 

Doc.  I'll  tell  you. 

In  those  that  are  possessed  with't  there  o'erflows 
Such  melancholy  humour,  they  imagine 
Themselves  to  be  transformed  into  wolves ;  lo 

Steal  forth  to  churchyards  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And  dig  dead  bodies  up :  as  two  nights  since 
One  met  the  duke  'bout  midnight  in  a  lane 
Behind  St.  Mark's  Church,  with  the  leg  of  a  man 
Upon  his  shoulder,  and  he  howled  fearfully ; 
Said  he  was  a  wolf,  only  the  difference 
Was,  a  wolf's  skin  was  hairy  on  the  outside. 
His  on  the  inside ;  bade  them  take  their  swords, 
Rip  up  his  flesh,  and  try :  straight  I  was  sent  for. 
And  having  ministered  unto  him,  found  his  grace  20 

Very  well  recovered. 

Pes.   I  am  glad  on't. 

Doc.  Yet  not  without  some  fear 

Of  a  relapse.     If  he  grow  to  his  fit  again, 
I'll  go  a  nearer  way  to  work  with  him 
Than  ever  Paracelsus  dreamed  of ;  if 
They'll  give  me  leave,  I'll  buffet  his  madness  out  of 

him. 
Stand  aside ;  he  comes. 


228  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

Enter  Ferdinand,  Malateste,  Cardinal, 
and  BosoLA 

Ferd.   Leave  me. 

Mai.   Why  doth  your  lordship  love  this  solitariness  ? 

Ferd.  Eagles  commonly  fly  alone :  they  are  crows, 
daws,  and  starlings  that  flock  together.  Look,  what's 
that  follows  me  ?  32 

Mai.   Nothing,  my  lord. 

Ferd.   Yes. 

Mai.    'Tis  your  shadow. 

Ferd.   Stay  it ;  let  it  not  haunt  me. 

Mai.   Impossible,  if  you  move,  and  the  sun  shine, 

Ferd.   I  will  throttle  it. 

{Throws  himself  on  the  ground. 

Mai.   O  my  lord,  you  are  angry  with  nothing. 

Ferd.  You  are  a  fool :  how  is't  possible  I  should  catch 
my  shadow,  unless  I  fall  upon't  ?  When  I  go  to  hell,  I 
mean  to  carry  a  bribe ;  for,  look  you,  good  gifts  evermore 
make  way  for  the  worst  persons.  43 

Pes.   Rise,  good  my  lord. 

Ferd.   I  am  studying  the  art  of  patience. 

Pes.   'Tis  a  noble  virtue. 

Ferd.  To  drive  six  snails  before  me  from  this  town  to 
Moscow;"  neither  use  goad  nor  whip  to  them,  but  let 
them  take  their  own  time;  —  (the  patient'st  man  i'th' 
world  match  me  for  an  experiment)  —  and  I'll  crawl  after 
like  a  sheep-biter.  51 

Card.   Force  him  up. 

Ferd.   Use  me  well,  you  were  best. 
What  I  have   done,   I  have   done:    I'll  confess  noth- 
ing. 

Doc.   Now  let  me  come  to  him.  —  Are  you  mad,  my 
lord? 
Are  you  out  of  your  princely  wits  ? 

Ferd.  What's  he  ? 

Pes.  Your  doctor. 


SCENE  II]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFl  229 

Ferd.   Let  me  have  his  beard  sawed  ofif,  and  his  eye- 
brows 
Filed  more  civil. 

Doc.  I  must  do  mad  tricks  with  him, 

For  that's  the  only  way  on't.  —  I  have  brought 
Your  grace  a  salamander's  skin,  to  keep  you  60 

From  sun-burning. 

Ferd.  I  have  cruel  sore  eyes. 

Doc.   The    white    of    a    cockatrix's    egg°    is    present 
remedy. 

Ferd.   Let  it  be  a  new-laid  one,  you  were  best. 
Hide  me  from  him :  physicians  are  like  kings. 
They  brook  no  contradiction. 

Doc.  Now  he  begins 

To  fear  me,  now  let  me  alone  with  him. 

Card.   How  now  ?   put  off  your  gown  ! 

Doc.  Let  me  have  some  forty  urinals  filled  with  rose- 
water  :  he  and  I'll  go  pelt  one  another  with  them.  — Now 
he  begins  to  fear  me.  —  Can  you  fetch  a  frisk,"  sir  ?  Let 
him  go,  let  him  go  upon  my  peril :  I  find  by  his  eye  he 
stands  in  awe  of  me ;  I'll  make  him  as  tame  as  a 
dormouse.  73 

Ferd.  Can  you  fetch  your  frisks,  sir  !  I  will  stamp  him 
into  a  cullis,  flay  ofif  his  skin,  to  cover  one  of  the  anatomies 
this  rogue  hath  set  i'th'  cold  yonder  in  Barber-Chirurgeon's 
hall.°  Hence,  hence  !  you  are  all  of  you  like  beasts  for 
sacrifice :  here's  nothing  left  of  you,  but  tongue  and  belly, 
flattery  and  lechery.  {Exit. 

Pes.   Doctor,  he  did  not  fear  you  throughly.  80 

Doc.   True ;  I  was  somewhat  too  forward. 

Bos.   Mercy  upon  me,  what  a  fatal  judgement 
Hath  fall'n  upon  this  Ferdinand  ! 

Pes.   Knows  your  grace 
What  accident  hath  brought  unto  the  prince 
This  strange  distraction  ? 

Card.   [Aside.]  I  must  feign  somewhat :  —  Thus  they 
say  it  grew. 


230  THE    DUCHESS    OF   MALFI  [act  V 

You  have  heard  it  rumoured  for  these  many  years, 

None  of  our  family  dies  but  there  is  seen 

The  shape  of  an  old  woman,  which  is  given  90 

By  tradition  to  us  to  have  been  murdered 

By  her  nephews,  for  her  riches.    .  Such  a  figure 

One  night,  as  the  prince  sat  up  late  at's  book, 

Appeared  to  him :    when,  crying  out  for  help, 

The  gentleman  of's  chamber,  found  his  grace 

All  on  a  cold  sweat,  altered  much  in  face 

And  language :  since  which  apparition, 

He  hath  grown  worse  and  worse,  and  I  much  fear 

He  cannot  live. 

Bos.  Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you. 

Pes.   We'll  leave  your  grace,  100 

Wishing  to  the  sick  prince,  our  noble  lord, 
All  health  of  mind  and  body. 

Card.  You  are  most  welcome. 

[Exeunt  all  hit  Cardinal  and  Bosola. 
Are   you   come?    so  —  [^w'Je.]    This   fellow    must    not 
^  ACi^nAC'    know 
^^j^    By  any  means  I  had  intelligence 

A        In  our  duchess'  death ;  for  though  I  counselled  it, 
■^      The  full  of  all  th'  engagement  seemed  to  grow 
f^^^tv^  From  Ferdinand.  —  Now,  sir,  how  fares  our  sister  ? 
.  **^    I  do  not  think  but  sorrow  makes  her  look 
H^       Like  to  an  oft-dyed  garment :  she  shall  now 

Taste  comfort  from  me.     Why  do  you  look  so  wildly  ?    1 10 
0,  the  fortune  of  your  master  here,  the  prince. 
Dejects  you ;  but  be  you  of  happy  comfort : 
If  you'll  do  one  thing  for  me,  I'll  entreat. 
Though  he  had  a  cold  tombstone  o'er  his  bones, 
I'd  make  you  what  you  would  be. 

Bos.  Anything, 

Give  it  me  in  a  breath,  and  let  me  fly  to't : 
They  that  think  long,  small  expedition  win, 
For  musing  much  o'th'  end,  cannot  begin. 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  231 

Enter  Julia 

Julia.   Sir,  will  you  come  in  to  supper? 

Card.  I  am  busy ;    leave  me. 

Julia.    [Aside.]  What   an   excellent   shape   hath    that 
fellow !  [Exit. 

Card.    'Tis  thus.     Antonio  lurks  here  in  Milan :        121 
Incjuire  him  out,  and  kill  him.     While  he  lives, 
Our  sister  cannot  marry,  and  I  have  thought 
Of  an  excellent  match  for  her.     Do  this,  and  style  me 
Thy  advancement." 

Bos.  But  by  what  means  shall  I  find  him  out  ? 

Card.   There  is  a  gentleman  called  Delio, 
Here  in  the  camp,  that  hath  been  long  approved 
His  loyal  friend.     Set  eye  upon  that  fellow ; 
Follow  him  to  mass :  maybe  Antonio, 
Although  he  do  account  religion  130 

But  a  school-name,  for  fashion  of  the  world 
May  accompany  him ;  or  else  go  inquire  out 
Delio's  confessor,  and  see  if  you  can  bribe 
Him  to  reveal  it.     There  are  a  thousand  ways 
A  man  might  find  to  trace  him ;  as  to  know 
What  fellows  haunt  the  Jews,  for  taking  up 
Great  sums  of  money,  for  sure  he's  in  want ; 
Or  else  to  go  to  th'  picture-makers,  and  learn 
Who  bought  her  picture  lately : "    some  of  these 
Happily  may  take. 

Bos.  Well,  I'll  not  freeze  i'th'  business : 

I  would  see  that  wretched  thing,  Antonio,  141 

Above  all  sights  i'th'  world. 

Card.  Do,  and  be  happy.      [Exit. 

Bos.   This  fellow  doth  breed  basiUsks  in's  eyes, 
He's  nothing  else  but  murder ;  yet  he  seems 
Not  to  have  notice  of  the  duchess'  death. 
'Tis  his  cunning :  I  must  follow  his  example ; 
There  cannot  be  a  surer  way  to  trace 
Than  that  of  an  old  fox. 


232  THE   DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  [act  v 

Enter  Julia 

Julia.   So,  sir,  you  are  well  met. 

Bos.  How  now  ? 

Julia.   Nay,  the  doors  are  fast  enough :  150 

Now,  sir,  I  will  make  you  confess  your  treachery. 

Bos.   Treachery  ! 

Julia.  Yes,  confess  to  me 

Which  of  my  women  'twas  you  hired  to  put 
Love-powder  into  my  drink  ? 

Bos.   Love-powder  ! 

Julia.  Yes,  when  I  was  at  Malfi. 

Why  should  I  fall  in  love  with  such  a  face  else? 
I  have  already  suffered  for  thee  so  much  pain, 
The  only  remedy  to  do  me  good. 
Is  to  kill  my  longing. 

Bos.  Sure  your  pistol  holds 

Nothing   but   perfumes,   or   kissing-comfits.      Excellent 
lady !  160 

You  have  a  pretty  way  on't  to  discover 
Your  longing.     Come,  come,  I'll  disarm  you. 
And  arm  you  thus :  yet  this  is  wondrous  strange. 

Julia.    Compare  thy  form  and  my  eyes  together, 
You'll  find  my  love  no  such  great  miracle.     Now  you'll 

say 
I  am  wanton :  this  nice  modesty  in  ladies 
Is  but  a  troublesome  familiar 
That  haunts  them. 

Bos.   Know  you  me,  I  am  a  blunt  soldier. 

Julia.  The  better ; 

Sure,  there  wants  fire,  where  there  are  no  lively  sparks 
Of  roughness. 

Bos.  And  I  want  compliment. 

Julia.  Why,  ignorance    171 

In  courtship  cannot  make  you  do  amiss. 
If  you  have  a  heart  to  do  well. 

Bos.  You  are  very  fair. 


SCENE  11]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  233 

Julia.   Nay,  if  you  lay  beauty  to  my  charge, 
I  must  plead  unguilty. 

Bos.  Your  bright  eyes 

Carry  a  quiver  of  darts  in  them,  sharper 
Than  sunbeams. 

Julia.  You  will  mar  me  with  commendation. 

Put  yourself  to  the  charge  of  courting  me, 
Whereas  now  I  woo  you. 

Bos.    [Aside.]    I    have    it;     I    will    work    upon    this 
creature.  —  180 

Let  us  grow  most  amorously  famiHar : 
If  the  great  Cardinal  should  see  me  thus, 
Would  he  not  count  me  a  villain  ? 

Julia.   No,  he  might  count  me  a  w'anton, 
Not  lay  a  scruple  of  ofTence  on  you ; 
For  if  I  see  and  steal  a  diamond. 
The  fault  is  not  i'th'  stone,  but  in  me  the  thief 
That  purloins  it.     I  am  sudden  with  you  : 
We  that  are  great  w'omen  of  pleasure,  use  to  cut  off 
These  uncertain  wishes  and  unquiet  longings,  'rgo 

And  in  an  instant  join  the  sweet  delight 
And  the  pretty  excuse  together.     Had  you  been  i'th' 

street, 
Under  my  chamber  window,  even  there 
I  should  have  courted  you. 

Bos.   O,  you  are  an  excellent  lady  ! 

Julia.   Bid  me  do  somewhat  for  you  presently, 
To  express  I  love  you. 

Bos.  I  will,  and  if  you  love  me, 

Fail  not  to  effect  it. 

The  Cardinal  is  grow'n  wondrous  melancholy : 
Demand  the  cause,  let  him  not  put  you  off  200 

With  feigned  excuse ;  discover  the  main  ground  on't. 

Julia.   Why  w^ould  you  know  this  ? 

Bos.  I  have  depended  on  him, 

And  I  hear  that  he  is  fall'n  in  some  disgrace 
With  the  emperor ;  if  he  be,  like  the  mice 


234  THE   DUCHESS   OF  MALFI  [act  v 

That  forsake  falling  houses,  I  would  shift 
To  other  dependence. 

Julia.   You  shall  not  need  follow  the  wars : 
I'll  be  your  maintenance. 

Bos.  And  I  your  loyal  servant ; 

But  I  cannot  leave  my  caUing. 

Julia.  Not  leave  an 

Ungrateful  general,  for  the  love  of  a  sweet  lady  !  210 

You  are  like  some  cannot  sleep  in  feather  beds, 
But  must  have  blocks  for  their  pillows. 

Bos.  Will  you  do  this  ? 

Julia.    Cunningly. 

Bos.   To-morrow,  I'll  expect  th'  intelligence. 

Julia.   To-morrow  !   get  you  into  my  cabinet ; 
You  shall  have  it  with  you.     Do  not  delay  me. 
No  more  than  I  do  you :  I  am  like  one 
That  is  condemned ;  I  have  my  pardon  promised, 
But  I  would  see  it  sealed.     Go,  get  you  in : 
You  shall  see  me  wind  my  tongue  about  his  heart,         220 
Like  a  skein  of  silk.  [Exit  Bosola. 

Enter  Cardinal  and  Servants 

Card.   Where  are  you  ? 

Serv.  Here. 

Card.  Let  none  upon  your  lives 

Have  conference  with  the  prince  Ferdinand, 
Unless  I  know  it.     [Aside.]  In  this  distraction, 

[Exeunt  Servants. 
He  may  reveal  the  murder.  — 
Yond's  my  lingering  consumption : 
I  am  weary  of  her,  and  by  any  means 
Would  be  quit  of. 

Julia.  How  now,  my  lord,  what  ails  you  ? 

Card.   Nothing. 

Julia.  O,  you  are  much  altered  ! 

Come,  I  must  be  your  secretary,"  and  remove  230 


SCENE  II]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  235 

This  lead  from  off  your  bosom  :  what's  the  matter  ? 

Card.   I  may  not  tell  you. 

Julia.   Are  you  so  far  in  love  with  sorrow,  • 
You  cannot  part  with  part  of  it  ?  or  think  you 
I  cannot  love  your  grace  when  you  are  sad 
As  well  as  merry  ?  or  do  you  suspect 
I,  that  have  been  a  secret  to  your  heart 
These  many  winters,  cannot  be  the  same 
Unto  your  tongue  ? 

Card.  Satisfy  thy  longing ; 

The  only  way  to  make  thee  keep  my  counsel  240 

Is,  not  to  tell  thee. 

Julia.  Tell  your  echo  this. 

Or  flatterers,  that  like  echoes  still  report 
What  they  hear  though  most  imperfect,  and  not  me ; 
For,  if  that  you  be  true  unto  yourself, 
I'll  know. 

Card.       Will  you  rack  me  ?  ° 

Julia.  No,  judgement  shall 

Draw  it  from  you :  it  is  an  equal  fault. 
To  tell  one's  secrets  unto  all  or  none. 

Card.   The  first  argues  folly. 

Julia.   But  the  last  tyranny. 

Card.   Very  well ;  why,  imagine  I  have  committed  250 
Some  secret  deed,  which  I  desire  the  world 
May  never  hear  of. 

Julia.  Therefore  may  not  I  know  it  ? 

You  have  concealed  for  me  as  great  a  sin 
As  adultery.     Sir,  never  was  occasion 
For  perfect  trial  of  my  constancy 
Till  now :  sir,  I  beseech  you  — 

Card.  You'll  repent  it. 

Julia.   Never. 

Card.   It  hurries  thee  to  ruin :  I'll  not  tell  thee. 
Be  well  advised,  and  think  what  danger  'tis 
To  receive  a  prince's  secrets :  they  that  do,  260 

Had  need  have  their  breasts  hooped  with  adamant 


236  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

To  contain  them.     I  pray  thee  yet  be  satisfied ; 
Examine  thine  own  frailty ;   'tis  more  easy 
To  tie  knots,  than  unloose  them  :   'tis  a  secret 
That,  like  a  lingering  poison,  may  chance  lie 
Spread  in  thy  veins,  and  kill  thee  seven  year  hence. 

Julia.   Now  you  dally  with  me. 

Card.  No  more,  thou  shalt  know  it. 

By  my  appointment,  the  great  Duchess  of  Malfi, 
And  two  of  her  young  children,  four  nights  since, 
Were  strangled. 

Julia.  O  Heaven  !   sir,  what  have  you  done  ? 

Card.   How  now  !  how  settles  this  ?   think  you  your 
bosom  271 

Will  be  a  grave  dark  and  obscure  enough 
For  such  a  secret  ? 

Julia.  You  have  undone  yourself,  sir. 

Card.   Why? 

Julia.  It  lies  not  in  me  to  conceal  it. 

Card.  No! 

Come,  I  will  swear  you  to't  upon  this  book. 

Julia.   Most  religiously. 

Card.  Kiss  it. 

Now  you  shall  never  utter  it ;  thy  curiosity 
Hath  undone  thee :  thou'rt  poisoned  with  that  book ; 
Because  I  knew  thou  couldst  not  keep  my  counsel, 
I  have  bound  thee  to't  by  death.  280 

Enter  Bosola 

Bos.   For  pity  sake,  hold  ! 

Card.  Ha,  Bosola  ! 

Julia.  I  forgive  you 

This  equal  piece  of  justice  you  have  done ; 
For  I  betrayed  your  counsel  to  that  fellow : 
He  overheard  it ;   that  was  the  cause  I  said 
It  lay  not  in  me  to  conceal  it. 

Bos.   O  foolish  woman, 


scKNEii]  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  237 

Couldst  not  thou  have  poisoned  him  ? 

Julia.  'Tis  weakness, 

Too  much  to  think  what  should  have  been  done.     I  go, 
I  know  not  whither.  [Dies. 

Card.  Wherefore  com'st  thou  hither? 

Bos.   That    I    might    find    a    great   man,   Hke    your- 
self, 290 
Not  out  of  his  wits,  as  the  lord  Ferdinand, 
To  remember  my  service. 

Card.  I'll  have  thee  hewed  in  pieces. 

Bos.   Make  not  yourself  such  a  promise  of  that  life, 
Which  is  not  yours  to  dispose  of. 

Card.  Who  placed  thee  here  ? 

Bos.   Her  lust,  as  she  intended. 

Card.  Very  well : 

Now  you  know  me  for  your  fellow-murderer. 

Bos.   And  wherefore  should  you  lay  fair  marble  colours 
Upon  your  rotten  purposes  to  me  ?  ° 
Unless  you  imitate  some  that  do  plot  great  treasons, 
And  when   they  have   done,   go  hide   themselves  i'th' 
graves  300 

Of  those  were  actors  in't  ? 

Card.  No  more ; 

There  is  a  fortune  attends  thee. 

Bos.   Shall  I  go  sue  to  fortune  any  longer  ? 
'Tis  the  fool's  pilgrimage. 

Card.   I  have  honours  in  store  for  thee. 

Bos.   There  are  a  many  ways  that  conduct  to  seem- 
ing 
Honour,  and  some  of  them  very  dirty  ones. 

Card.   Throw  to  the  devil 
Thy  melancholy.     The  fire  burns  well ; 
What  need  we  keep  a  stirring  oft,  and  make  31° 

A  greater  smother  ?  thou  wilt  kill  Antonio  ? 

Bos.   Yes. 

Card.  Take  up  that  body. 

Bos.  I  think  I  shall 


238  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

Shortly  grow  the  common  bier  for  churchyards. 

Card.  I  will  allow  thee  some  dozen  of  attendants, 
To  aid  thee  in  the  murder. 

Bos.  0,  by  no  means.  Physicians  that  apply  horse- 
leeches to  any  rank  swelling,  use  to  cut  off  their  tails, 
that  the  blood  may  run  through  them  the  faster.  Let 
me  have  no  train  when  I  go  to  shed  blood,  lest  it  make 
me  have  a  greater  when  I  ride  to  the  gallows.  32° 

Card.   Come  to  me  after  midnight,  to  help  to  remove 
that  body 
To  her  own  lodging :  I'll  give  out  she  died  o'th'  plague ; 
'Twill  breed  the  less  inquiry  after  her  death. 

Bos.   Where's  Castruccio,  her  husband  ? 

Card.   He's  rode  to  Naples,  to  take  possession 
Of  Antonio's  citadel. 

Bos.   Believe  me,  you  have  done  a  very  happy  turn. 

Card.   Fail  not  to  come :  there  is  the  master-key 
Of  our  lodgings ;  and  by  that  you  may  conceive 
What  trust  I  plant  in  you. 

Bos.  You  shall  find  me  ready.  [Exit  Cardinal. 

O  poor  Antonio,  though  nothing  be  so  needful  33,-1 

To  thy  estate,  as  pity,  yet  I  find 
Nothing  so  dangerous  !     I  must  look  to  my  footing : 
In  such  slippery  ice-pavements,  men  had  need 
To  be  frost-nailed  well,   they  may  break   their   necks 

else; 
The  precedent's  here  afore  me.     How  this  man 
Bears  up  in  blood  !  seems  fearless  !  why,  'tis  well : 
Security  some  men  call  the  suburbs  of  hell, 
Only  a  dead  wall  between.     Well,  good  Antonio, 
I'll  seek  thee  out ;  and  all  my  care  shall  be  34° 

To  put  thee  into  safety  from  the  reach 
Of  these  most  cruel  biters,  that  have  got 
Some  of  thy  blood  already.     It  may  be, 
I'll  join  with  thee,  in  a  most  just  revenge : 
The  weakest  arm  is  strong  enough,  that  strikes 
With  the  sword  of  justice.    Still  methinks  the  duchess 


SCENE  III]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  239 

Haunts  me :  there,  there  !  —  'tis  nothing  but  my  melan- 
choly. 
O  Penitence,  let  me  truly  taste  thy  cup, 
That  throws  men  down,  only  to  raise  them  up  !       [Exit. 

Scene  III° 
Enter  Antonio  and  Delio 

Delio.   Yond's  the  Cardinal's  window.     This  fortifica- 
tion 
Grew  from  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  abbey ; 
And  to  yond'  side  o'th'  river  lies  a  wall, 
Piece  of  a  cloister,  which  in  my  opinion 
Gives  the  best  echo  that  you  ever  heard, 
So  hollow  and  so  dismal,  and  withal 
So  plain  in  the  distinction  of  our  words, 
That  many  have  supposed  it  is  a  spirit 
That  answers. 

Ant.  I  do  love  these  ancient  ruins. 

We  never  tread  upon  them,  but  we  set  10 

Our  foot  upon  some  reverend  history : 
And,  questionless,  here  in  this  open  court, 
Which  now  lies  naked  to  the  injuries 
Of  stormy  weather,  some  men  lie  interred 
Loved  the  church  so  well,  and  gave  so  largely  to't, 
They  thought  it  should  have  canopied  their  bones 
Till  doomsday ;  but  all  things  have  their  end : 
Churches  and  cities,  which  have  diseases  like  to  men, 
Must  have  like  death  that  we  have. 

Echo  {from  the  Duchess'  grave) .   Like  death  that  we  have. 

Delia.   Now  the  echo  hath  caught  you.  20 

Ant.   It  groaned,  methought,  and  gave 
A  very  deadly  accent. 

Echo.  Deadly  accent. 

Delio.   I  told  you  'twas  a  pretty  one :  you  may  make 
it 


240  THE    DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  [act  v 

A  huntsman,  or  a  falconer,  a  musician, 
Or  a  thing  of  sorrow. 

Echo.  A  thing  of  sorrow. 

Ant.  Aye,  sure,  that  suits  it  best. 

Echo.  That  suits  it  best. 

Ant.    'Tis  very  like  my  wife's  voice. 

Echo.  Aye,  wife^s  voice. 

Delio.    Come,  let  us  walk  farther  from't. 
I  would  not  have  you  go  to  th'  Cardinal's  to-night : 
Do  not. 

Echo.      Do  not.  3° 

Delio.  Wisdom  doth  not  more  moderate  wasting  sorrow. 
Than  time :  take  time  for't ;  be  mindful  of  thy  safety. 

Echo.   Be  mindful  of  thy  safety. 

Ant.   Necessity  compels  me : 
Make  scrutiny  throughout  the  passes 
Of  your  own  life,  you'll  find  it  impossible 
To  fly  your  fate. 

Echo .  0  fly  your  fate! 

Delio.   Hark  !  the  dead  stones  seem  to  have  pity  on  you, 
And  give  you  good  counsel. 

Ant.    Echo,  I  will  not  talk  with  thee,  40 

For  thou  art  a  dead  thing. 

Echo.  Thou  art  a  dead  thing. 

Ant.    My  duchess  is  asleep  now. 
And  her  little  ones,  I  hope  sweetly :  O  Heaven, 
Shall  I  never  see  her  more  ? 

Echo.  Never  see  her  more. 

Ant.   I  marked  not  one  repetition  of  the  echo 
But  that ;  and  on  the  sudden,  a  clear  light 
Presented  me  a  face  folded  in  sorrow. 

Delio.   Your  fancy  merely. 

Ant.  Come,  I'll  be  out  of  this  ague, 

For  to  live  thus,  is  not  indeed  to  live ; 
It  is  a  mockery  and  abuse  of  life :  5° 

I  will  not  henceforth  save  myself  by  halves ; 
Lose  all,  or  nothing. 


SCENE  IV]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  241 

Delio.  Your  own  virtue  save  you  ! 

I'll  fetch  your  eldest  son,  and  second  you : 
It  may  be  that  the  sight  of  his  own  blood 
Spread  in  so  sweet  a  figure,  may  beget 
The  more  compassion.     However,  fare  you  well. 
Though  in  our  miseries  fortune  have  a  part, 
Yet  in  our  noble  sufferings  she  hath  none ; 
Contempt  of  pain,  that  we  may  call  our  own."     [Exeunt. 

Scene  IV  ° 
Enter  Cardinal,  Pescara,  Malateste, 

RODERIGO,  GrISOLAN 

Card.   You  shall  not  watch  to-night  by  the  sick  prince ; 
His  grace  is  very  well  recovered. 

Mai.    Good  my  lord,  suffer  us. 

Card.  O,  by  no  means : 

The  noise  and  change  of  object  in  his  eye 
Doth  more  distract  him :  I  pray,  all  to  bed ; 
And  though  you  hear  him  in  his  violent  fit, 
Do  not  rise,  I  entreat  you. 

Pes.   So,  sir ;  we  shall  not. 

Card.  Nay,  I  must  have  you  promise 

Upon  your  honours,  for  I  was  enjoined  to't 
By  himself ;  and  he  seemed  to  urge  it  sensibly.  10 

Pes.   Let  our  honours  bind  this  trifle. 

Card.   Nor  any  of  your  followers. 

Mai.   Neither. 

Card.   It  may  be,  to  make  trial  of  your  promise, 
When  he's  asleep,  myself  will  rise  and  feign 
Some  of  his  mad  tricks,  and  cry  out  for  help. 
And  feign  myself  in  danger. 

Mai.   If  your  throat  were  cutting, 
I'd  not  come  at  you,  now  I  have  protested  against  it.° 

Card.   Why,  I  thank  you. 

Gris.  'Twas  a  foul  storm  to-night.  20 


242  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

Rod.   The   lord   Ferdinand's  chamber   shook  like  an 
osier. 

Mai.   'Twas  nothing  but  pure  kindness  in  the  devil, 
To  rock  his  own  child.  [Exeunt  all  hut  the  Cardinal. 

Card.   The  reason  why  I  would  not  suffer  these 
About  my  brother,  is,  because  at  midnight 
I  may  with  better  privacy  convey 
Julia's  body  to  her  own  lodging.     O  my  conscience  ! 
I  would  pray  now ;  but  the  devil  takes  away  my  heart 
For  having  any  confidence  in  prayer. 
About  this  hour  I  appointed  Bosola  30 

To  fetch  the  body :  when  he  hath  served  my  turn, 
He  dies.  [Exit. 

Enter  Bosola 

Bos.   Ha !    'twas  the  Cardinal's  voice ;    I  heard  him 
name 
Bosola  and  my  death :  listen,  I  hear  one's  footing. 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferd.   Strangling  is  a  very  quiet  death. 

Bos.    [Aside.]  Nay  then,  I  see  I  must  stand  upon  my 

guard. 
Ferd.   What  say  to  that  ?  whisper  softly ;  do  you  agree 
to't  ?    So,  it  must  be  done  i'th'  dark;  the  Cardinal  would 
not  for  a  thousand  pounds  the  doctor  should  see  it. 

[Exit. 

Bos.   My  death  is  plotted ;   here's  the  consequence  of 

murder.  40 

We  value  not  desert  nor  Christian  breath. 

When  we  know  black  deeds  must  be  cured  with  death. 

Enter  Servant  and  Antonio 

Serv.   Here  stay,  sir,  and  be  confident,  I  pray: 
I'll  fetch  you  a  dark  lantern.  [Exit. 


SCENE  IV]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  243 

Ant.   Could  I  take  him  at  his  prayers, 
There  were  hope  of  pardon. 

Bos.   Fall  right  my  sword : 
I'll  not  give  thee  so  much  leisure  as  to  pray. 

[Stabs  Antonio. 

Ant.   0,  I  am  gone  !     Thou  hast  ended  a  long  suit 
In  a  minute. 

Bos.  What  art  thou  ? 

Ant.  A  most  wretched  thing,  5° 

That  only  have  the  benefit  in  death. 
To  appear  myself. 

Enter  Servant  with  a  light 

Serv.   Where  are  you,  sir  ? 

Ant.   Very  near  my  home.  —  Bosola  ! 

Serv.   0  misfortune  ! 

Bos.   Smother  thy  pity,  thou  art  dead  else.  —  Antonio  ! 
The  man  I  would  have  saved  'bove  mine  own  life  ! 
We  are  merely  the  stars'  tennis-balls,  struck  and  banded 
Which  way  please  them.     O  good  Antonio, 
I'll  whisper  one  thing  in  thy  dying  ear,  60 

Shall  make  thy  heart  break  quickly !   thy  fair  duchess 
And  two  sweet  children  — 

Ant.  Their  very  names 

Kindle  a  little  life  in  me. 

Bos.  Are  murdered. 

Ant.   Some  men  have  wished  to  die 
At  the  hearing  of  sad  tidings ;  I  am  glad 
That  I  shall  do't  in  sadness: "   I  would  not  now 
Wish  my  wounds  balmed  nor  healed,  for  I  have  no  use 
To  put  my  life  to.     In  all  our  quest  of  greatness, 
Like  wanton  boys,  whose  pastime  is  their  care, 
We  follow  after  bubbles  blown  in  th'  air.  70 

Pleasure  of  life,  what  is't  ?  only  the  good  hours 
Of  an  ague ;  merely  a  preparative  to  rest. 
To  endure  vexation.     I  do  not  ask 


\ 


244  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

The  process  of  my  death ;  only  commend  me 
To  Delio. 

Bos.   Break,  heart ! 

Ant.   And  let  my  son  fly  the  courts  of  princes.     [Dies. 

Bos.   Thou  seem'st  to  have  loved  Antonio  ? 

Serv.   I  brought  him  hither, 
To  have  reconciled  him  to  the  Cardinal.  80 

Bos.   I  do  not  ask  thee  that : 
Take  him  up,  if  thou  tender  thine  own  life, 
And  bear  him  where  the  lady  Julia 
Was  wont  to  lodge.  —  O  my  fate  moves  swift ! 
I  have  this  Cardinal  in  the  forge  already. 
Now   I'll   bring   him   to   th'   hammer.     O   direful   mis- 


prision 


I  will  not  imitate  things  glorious, 

No  more  than  base ;  I'll  be  mine  own  example.  — 

On,  on,  and  look  thou  represent,  for  silence. 

The  thing  thou  bear'st."  [Exeunt.     90 

Scene  V^ 

Enter  Cardinal,  with  a  hook 

Card.   I  am  puzzled  in  a  question  about  hell : 
He  says,  in  hell  there's  one  material  fire. 
And  yet  it  shall  not  burn  all  men  alike. 
Lay  him  by.     How  tedious  is  a  guilty  conscience  ! 
When  I  look  into  the  fishponds  in  my  garden, 
Methinks  I  see  a  thing  armed  with  a  rake, 
That  seems  to  strike  at  me.  — 

Enter  Bosola,  and  Servant  hearing  Antonio's  hody 

Now,  art  thou  come? 
Thou  look'st  ghastly ; 

There  sits  in  thy  face  some  great  determination, 
Mixed  with  some  fear.  ^° 


SCENE  v]  THE   DUCHESS    OF    MALFI  245 

Bos.   Thus  it  lightens  into  action  : 
I  am  come  to  kill  thee. 

Card.  Ha  !  help  !  our  guard  ! 

Bos.   Thou  art  deceived ; 
They  are  out  of  thy  howling. 

Card.   Hold ;  and  I  will  faithfully  divide 
Revenues  with  thee. 

Bos.   Thy  prayers  and  proffers 
Are  both  unseasonable. 

Card.   Raise  the  watch  !  we  are  betrayed  !  20 

Bos.   I  have  confined  your  flight : 
I'll  suffer  your  retreat  to  Julia's  chamber, 
But  no  further. 

Card.   Help  !  we  are  betrayed! 


Enter  Malateste,  Pescara,  Roderigo, 
and  Grisolan,  above 

Mai.   Listen! 

Card.   My  dukedom  for  rescue  ! 

Rod.    Fie  upon  his  counterfeiting! 

Mai.   Why,  'tis  not  the  Cardinal. 

Rod.   Yes,  yes,  'tis  he : 
But  I'll  see  him  hanged  ere  I'll  go  down  to  him.  30 

Card.   Here's  a  plot  upon  me ;  I  am  assaulted !  I  am 
lost. 
Unless  some  rescue ! 

Oris.  He  doth  this  pretty  well ; 

But  it  will  not  serve  to  laugh  me  out  of  mine  honour. 

Card.   The  sword's  at  my  throat ! 

Rod.  You  would  not  bawl  so  loud  then. 

Mai.   Come,  come,  let's  go  to  bed :   he  told  us  thus 
much  aforehand. 

Pes.   He  wished  you  should  not  come  at  him ;    but 
believe't. 
The  accent  of  the  voice  sounds  not  in  jest : 


246  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

I'll  down  to  him,  howsoever,  and  with  engines 

Force  ope  the  doors.  [Exit. 

Rod.  Let's  follow  him  aloof. 

And  note  how  the  Cardinal  will  laugh  at  him.  40 

[Exeunt,  above,  Malateste,  Roderigo, 
and  Grisolan. 

Bos.   There's  for  you  first, 
'Cause  you  shall  not  unbarricade  the  door 
To  let  in  rescue.  [He  kills  the  Servant. 

Card.   What  cause  hast  thou  to  pursue  my  life  ? 

Bos.  Look  there. 

Card.   Antonio  ! 

Bos.  Slain  by  my  hand  unwittingly : 

Pray,  and  be  sudden :  when  thou  killed'st  thy  sister, 
Thou  took'st  from  Justice  her  most  equal  balance, 
And  left  her  nought  but  her  sword. 

Card.  O  mercy ! 

Bos.   Now  it  seems  thy  greatness  was  only  outward ; 
For  thou  fall'st  faster  of  thyself  than  calamity  5° 

Can  drive  thee :  I'll  not  waste  longer  time ;  there! 

[Stabs  him. 

Card.   Thou  hast  hurt  me. 

Bos.  Again ! 

Card.  Shall  I  die  like  a  leveret, 

Without  any  resistance  ?    Help,  help,  help  ! 
I  am  slain! 

Enter  Ferdinand 

Ferd.  Th'  alarum  !  give  me  a  fresh  horse ; 

Rally  the  vaunt-guard,  or  the  day  is  lost! 
Yield,  yield :  I  give  you  the  honours  of  arms, 
Shake  my  sword  over  you ;  will  you  yield  ? 
Card.   Help  me,  I  am  your  brother  ! 
Ferd.  The  devil ! 

My  brother  fight  upon  the  adverse  party  ! 

[He  wounds  the  Cardinal,  and  {in  the  scuffle) 
gives  BosoLA  his  death  wound. 


SCENE  v]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  247 

There  flies  your  ransom.  60 

Card.   O  justice ! 
I  suffer  now  for  what  hath  former  been :  ° 
Sorrow  is  held  the  eldest  child  of  sin. 

Fcrd.  Now  you're  brave  fellows.  Caesar's  fortune  was 
harder  than  Pompey's ;  Caesar  died  in  the  arms  of 
prosperity,  Pompey  at  the  feet  of  disgrace.  You  both 
died  in  the  field.  The  pain's  nothing :  pain  many  times 
is  taken  away  with  the  apprehension  of  greater,  as  the 
toothache  with  the  sight  of  a  barber  that  comes  to  pull 
it  out :  there's  philosophy  for  you.  70 

Bos.   Now  my  revenge  is  perfect.     Sink,  thou  main 
cause  [He  stabs  Ferdinand. 

Of  my  undoing.     The  last  part  of  my  life 
Hath  done  me  best  service. 

Ferd.    Give  me  some  wet  hay,  I  am  broken-winded. 
I  do  account  this  world  but  a  dog-kennel : 
I  will  vault  credit  °  and  affect  high  pleasures, 
Beyond  death. 

Bos.  He  seems  to  come  to  himself, 

Now  he's  so  near  the  bottom. 

Ferd.  My  sister,  O  my  sister  !  there's  the  cause  on't. 
Whether  we  fall  by  ambition,  blood,  or  lust,  80 

Like  diamonds,  we  are  cut  with  our  own  dust.         [Dies. 

Card.   Thou  hast  thy  payment  too. 

Bos.   Yes,  I  hold  my  weary  soul  in  my  teeth ; 
'Tis  ready  to  part  from  me.     I  do  glory 
That  thou,  which  stood'st  hke  a  huge  pyramid 
Begun  upon  a  large  and  ample  base, 
Shalt  end  in  a  little  point,  a  kind  of  nothing. 

Enter  Pescara  and  the  others 

Pes.  How  now,  my  lord  ! 

Mai.  O  sad  disaster  ! 

Rod.  How  comes  this  ? 

Bos.   Revenge  for  the  Duchess  of  Malfi,  murdered 


248  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  [act  v 

By  the  Arragonian  brethren  ;  for  Antonio,  90 

Slain  by  this  hand ;  for  lustful  Julia, 

Poisoned  by  this  man ;  and  lastly  for  myself. 

That  was  an  actor  in  the  main  of  all 

Much  'gainst  mine  own  good  nature,  yet  i'th'  end 

Neglected. 

Pes.  How  now,  my  lord  ! 

Card.  Look  to  my  brother : 

He  gave  us  these  large  wounds,  as  we  were  struggling 
Here  i'th'  rushes."     And  now,  I  pray,  let  me 
Be  laid  by  and  never  thought  of.  [Dies. 

Pes.   How  fatally,  it  seems,  he  did  withstand 
His  own  rescue  ! 

Mai.  Thou  wretched  thing  of  blood,         100 

How  came  Antonio  by  his  death  ? 

Bos.   In  a  mist :  I  know  not  how : 
Such  a  mistake  as  I  have  often  seen 
In  a  play.     O,  I  am  gone  ! 
We  are  only  like  dead  walls,  or  vaulted  graves, 
That  ruined,  yield  no  echo.     Fare  you  well. 
It  may  be  pain,  but  no  harm  to  me  to  die, 
In  so  good  a  quarrel.     0  this  gloomy  world ! 
In  what  a  shadow,  or  deep  pit  of  darkness. 
Doth  womanish  and  fearful  mankind  live  !  no 

Let  worthy  minds  ne'er  stagger  in  distrust 
To  suffer  death  or  shame  for  what  is  just : 
Mine  is  another  voyage.  [Dies. 

Pes.  The  noble  Delio,  as  I  came  to  th'  palace. 
Told  me  of  Antonio's  being  heje,  and  showed  me 
A  pretty  gentleman,  his  son  and  heir. 

Enter  Delio,  and  Antonio's  Son 

Mai.   O  sir,  you  come  too  late  ! 

Delio.  I  heard  so,  and 

Was  armed  for't,  ere  I  came.     Let  us  make  noble  use 
Of  this  great  ruin ;  and  join  all  our  force 


SCENE  v]  THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  249 

To  establish  this  young  hopeful  gentleman  120 

In's  mother's  right.     These  wretched  eminent  things 

Leave  no  more  fame  behind  'em,  than  should  one 

Fall  in  a  frost,"  and  leave  his  print  in  snow : 

As  soon  as  the  sun  shines,  it  ever  melts, 

Both  form  and  matter.     I  have  ever  thought 

Nature  doth  nothing  so  great  for  great  men. 

As  when  she's  pleased  to  make  them  lords  of  truth : 

Integrity  of  Hfe  is  fame's  best  friend. 

Which  nobly,  beyond  death,  shall  crown  the  end. 

[Exeunt. 


APPIUS  AND  VIRGINIA 


APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA 

The  story  of  Appius  and  Virginia,  which  forms  the  central 
plot  of  Webster's  play  on  this  subject,  is  a  fairly  well-authen- 
ticated tale  connected  with  the  fall  of  the  decemvirate.  (See 
Mommsen's  History  of  Rome,  i.  367).  The  story  has  proved 
attractive  to  writers  of  different  periods  and  nations.  It  appears 
as  the  first  novel  of  the  nineteenth  day  in  Ser  Giovanni  Fioren- 
tino's  Pecorofic,  which  dates  from  1378  ;  and  about  two  hundred 
years  later  in  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure,  where  so  many  of  the 
good  stories  of  the  world  are  to  be  found  The  first  drama  on 
the  story  in  English  appeared  in  1575.  To  this  Webster  is  in- 
debted to  a  considerable  extent.  The  probable  date  of  Webster's 
play  is  about  1624.  Since  this  date  the  material  has  been  treated 
dramatically  a  number  of  times,  never  with  more  melodramatic 
power  than  in  the  Virginius  of  Sheridan  Knowles,  1820. 


253 


DRAMATIS  PERSON M 

ViRGiNlus,  a  Roman  Commander. 

Appius  Claudius,  a  Roman  Plebeian,  chosen  one  of  the  Decemviri. 

MiNUTIUS,  )     „ 

J-    Roman  Senators. 
Oppius,      ) 

Marcus  Claudius,  Secretary  to  Appius. 

NuMiTORius,  Brother  to  Virginius. 

IciLius,  a  Roman  Noble,  betrothed  to  Virginia. 

Valerius,  a  Lieutenant. 

HoRATius,  Friend  to  ViRGINIUS. 

Sertorius,  Servant  to  IciLius. 

CoRBULO,  a  Clown. 

Two  Cousins  of  AppiuS. 

An  Advocate. 

A  Roman  Officer. 

Senators,  Lictors,  Soldiers,  Musicians,  Petitioners,  Servants. 

Virginia,  Daughter  to  Virginius. 

TULIA,  )    ^  .       ,  -., 

•'  \   Friends  to  Virginia. 

Calphurnia,  J 

Nurse. 

Scene  —  Rome  and  the  Camp  before  Algidum 


254 


APPIUS  AND  VIRGINIA 

ACT  THE   FIRST 

Scene  P 

Enter  Minutius,  Oppius,  and  Lictors 

Min.   Is  Appius  sent  for,  that  we  may  acquaint  him 
With  the  decree  o'  th'  Senate  ? 

Lid.  He  is,  my  lord, 

And  will  attend  your  lordships  presently. 

0pp.   Lictor,  did  you  tell  him  that  our  business 
Was  from  the  Senate  ? 

Lict.   I  did,  my  lord ;  and  here  he  is  at  hand. 

Enter  Appius,  his  two  Cousins,  and  Marcus 

Appius.   My  lords,  your  pleasure  ? 

Min.   Appius,  the  Senate  greet  you  well. 
And  by  us  do  signify  unto  you. 
That  they  have  chosen  you  one  of  the  Decemviri. 

Appius.   My  lords,  far  be  it  from  the  thoughts 
Of  so  poor  a  plebeian,  as  your  unworthy  servant 
Appius,  to  soar  so  high :  the  dignity  of  so 
Eminent  a  place  would  require  a  person 
Of  the  best  parts  and  blood  in  Rome. 
My  lords,  he  that  must  steer  at  the  head 
Of  an  empire,  ought  to  be  the  mirror  of  the  times, 
For  wisdom  and  for  poKcy ;    and  therefore, 
I  would  beseech  the  Senate  to  elect  one 
Worthy  of  the  place,  and  not  to  think  of  : 

One  so  unfit  as  Appius. 

Min.   My  lord,  my  lord,  you  dally  with  your  wits : 
255 


256  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  i 

I  have  seen  children  oft  eat  sweetmeats  thus, 
As  fearful  to  devour  them.° 

You  are  wise,  and  play  the  modest  courtier  right, 
To  make  so  many  bits  of  your  delight. 

0pp.   But  you  must  know,  what  we  have  once  concluded. 
Cannot,  for  any  private  man's  affection, 
Be  slighted.    Take  your  choice,  then,  with  best  judgement, 
Of  these  two  proffers ;  either  to  accept  3° 

The  place  proposed  you,  or  be  banished  Rome 
Immediately.  —  Lictors,  make  way.  —  We  expect 
Your  speedy  resolution.  [Exeunt  Oppius,  Minutius. 

First  Cons.  Noble  cousin, 

You  wrong  yourself  extremely  to  refuse 
So  eminent  a  place. 

Second  Cous.  It  is  a  means 

To  raise  your  kindred.     Who  shall  dare  t'  oppose 
Himself  against  our  family,  when  yonder" 
Shall  sit  your  power  and  frown  ? 

Appius.  Or  banished  Rome  ! 

I  pray  forbear  a  little.  —  Marcus. 

Marcus.  Sir. 

Appius.   How  dost  thou  like  my  cunning  ? 

Marcus.  I  protest    40 

I  was  be-agued,  fearing  lest  the  Senate 
Should  have  accepted  at  your  feigned  refusal. 
See,  how  your  kindred  and  your  friends  are  mustered 
To  warm  them  at  your  sunshine.     Were  you  now 
In  prison,  or  arraigned  before  the  Senate 
For  some  suspect  of  treason,  all  these  swallows 
Would  fly  your  stormy  winter ;  not  one  sing ; 
Their  music  is  [in]  the  summer  and  the  spring. 

Appius.    Thou   observ'st    shrewdly.      Well,    I'll    fit 
them  for't." 
I  must  be  one  of  the  Decemviri,  5° 

Or  banished  Rome  ?  banished  !  laugh,  my  trusty  Marcus ; 
I  am  enforced  to  my  ambition. 
I  have  heard  of  cunning  footmen  that  have  worn 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  257 

Shoes  made  of  lead  some  ten  days  'fore  a  race, 

To  give  them  nimble  and  more  active  feet : 

So  great  men  should,  that  aspire  eminent  place," 

Load  themselves  with  excuse  and  faint  denial, 

That  they  with  more  speed  may  perform  the  trial. 

"  Mark  his  humility,"  says  one,  "  how  far 

His  dreams  are  from  ambition :"  says  another,  60 

"  He  would  not  show  his  eloquence,  lest  that 

Should  draw  him  into  office :"  and  a  third 

Is  meditating  on  some  thrifty  suit 

To  beg  'fore  dinner.     Had  I  as  many  hands 

As  had  Briareus,  I'd  extend  them  all 

To  catch  this  office ;  'twas  my  sleep's  disturber, 

My  diet's  ill  digestion,  my  melancholy, 

Past  physic's  cure. 

Enter  Oppius,  Minutius,  and  Lictors 

Marcus.  The  senators  return. 

Min.   My  lord,  your  answer  ? 

Appius.   To  obey,  my  lord,  and  to  know  how  to  rule, 
Do  differ  much;  to  obey,  by  nature  comes,  71 

But  to  command,  by  long  experience. 
Never  were  great  men  in  so  eminent  place 
Without  their  shadows."     Envy  will  attend 
On  greatness  till  this  general  frame  "  takes  end. 
'Twixt  these  extremes  of  state  and  banishment, 
My  mind  hath  held  long  conflict,  and  at  last 
I  thus  return  my  answer :  noble  friends," 
We  now  must  part ;  necessity  of  state 
Compels  it  so ;  80 

I  must  inhabit  now  a  place  unknown  ; 
You  see't  compels  me  leave  you.     Fare  you  well. 

First  Cous.   To  banishment,  my  lord  ? 

Appius.  I  am  given  up 

To  a  long  travail  full  of  fear  and  danger ; 
To  waste  the  day  in  sweat,  and  the  cold  night 


258  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  i 

In  a  most  desolate  contemplation ; 
Banished  from  all  my  kindred  and  my  friends ; 
Yea,  banished  from  myself ;  for  I  accept 
This  honourable  calling. 

Min.  Worthy  Appius, 

The  gods  conduct  you  hither  ! "     Lictors,  his  robes.        9° 

Second  Cous.   We  are  made  for  ever ;  noble  kinsman, 
'Twas  but  to  fright  us. 

Appius.  But,  my  loving  kinsmen, 

Mistake  me  not ;  for  what  I  spake  was  true, 
Bear  witness  all  the  gods :  I  told  you  -first, 
I  was  to  inhabit  in  a  place  unknown : 
'Tis  very  certain,  for  this  reverend  seat 
Receives  me  as  a  pupil ;  rather  gives 
Ornament  to  the  person,  than  our  person 
The  least  of  grace  to  it.     I  showed  you  next 
I  am  to  travail ;°  'tis  a  certain  truth :  100 

Look  !  by  how  much  the  labour  of  the  mind 
Exceeds  the  body's,  so  far  am  I  bound 
With  pain  and  industry,  beyond  the  toil 
Of  those  that  sweat  in  war ;  beyond  the  toil 
Of  any  artisan  :  pale  cheeks,  and  sunk  eyes, 
A  head  with  watching  dizzied,  and  a  hair 
Turned  white  in  youth ;    all  these  at  a  dear  rate 
We  purchase  speedily  that  tend  a  state. 
I  told  you  I  must  leave  you ;  'tis  most  true : 
Henceforth  the  face  of  a  barbarian  no 

And  yours  shall  be  all  one ;  henceforth  I'll  know  you 
But  only  by  your  virtue :  brother  or  father. 
In  dishonest  suit,  shall  be  to  me 
As  is  the  branded  slave.     Justice  should  have 
No  kindred,  friends,  nor  foes,  nor  hate,  nor  love; 
As  free  from  passion  as  the  gods  above. 
I  was  your  friend  and  kinsman,  now  your  judge ; 
And  whilst  I  hold  the  scales,  a  downy  feather 
Shall  as  soon  turn  them  as  a  mass  of  pearl 
Or  diamonds. 


SCENE  11]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  259 

Marcus.   [Aside.]     Excellent,  excellent  lapwing  !       120 
There's  other  stuff  closed  in  that  subtle  breast. 
He  sings  and  beats  his  wings  far  from  his  nest. 

Appiiis.   So,  gentlemen,  I  take  it,  here  takes  end 
Your  business,  my  acquaintance  :  fare  you  well. 

First  Cous.   Here's  a  quick  change  !    who    did    expect 
this  cloud  ? 
Thus  men  when  they  grow  great  do  straight  grow  proud. 

Appius.   Now  to  our  present  business  at  the  camp. 
The  army  that  doth  winter  'fore  Algidum, 
Is  much  distressed  we  hear :  Minutius, 
You,  with  the  levies  and  the  little  corn  130 

This  present  dearth  will  yield,  are  speedily 
To  hasten  thither ;  so  to  appease  the  mind 
Of  the  intemperate  soldier. 

Min.  I  am  ready ; 

The  levies  do  attend  me :  our  lieutenant, 
Send  on  our  troops. 

Appius.  Farewell,  Minutius 

The  gods  go  with  you,  and  be  still  at  hand 
To  add  a  triumph  to  your  bold  command.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II" 
Enter  Numitorius,  Icilius,  and  Virginia 

Num.   Noble  Icilius,  welcome ;  teach  yourself 
A  bolder  freedom  here ;  for,  by  our  love. 
Your  suit  to  my  fair  niece  doth  parallel 
Her  kindred's  wishes.     There's  not  in  all  Rome 
A  man  that  is  by  honour  more  approved, 
Nor  worthier,  were  you  poor,"  to  be  beloved. 

Icil.   You  give  me,  noble  lord,  that  character 
Which  I  could  never  yet  read  in  myself : 
But  from  your  censure  shall  I  take  much  care 
To  adorn  it"  with  the  faintest  ornaments  ro 

Of  unambitious  virtue.     Here"  I  hold 


26o  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [ACT  I 

My  honourable  pattern ;  one  whose  mind 
Appears  more  Hke  a  ceremonious  chapel" 
Full  of  sweet  music,  than  a  thronging  presence. ° 
I  am  confirmed,  the  court  doth  make  some  show 
Fairer  than  else  they  would  do ;  but  her  port. 
Being  simple  virtue,  beautifies  the  court."^ 

Virginia.    It  is  a  flattery,  my  lord. 
You  breathe  upon  me ;  and  it  shows  much  like 
The  borrowed  painting  which  some  ladies  use,  20 

It  is  not  to  continue  many  days ; 
My  wedding  garm.ents  will  outwear  this  praise. 

Num.   Thus  ladies  still  foretell  the  funeral 
Of  their  lord's  kindness. 

Enter  a  Servant,  whispers  Icilius  in  the  ear 

But,  my  lord,  what  news  ? 

Icil.   Virginius,  my  lord,  your  noble  brother, 
Disguised  in  dust  and  sweat,  is  new  arrived 
Within  the  city :  troops  of  artisans 
Follow  his  panting  horse,  and  with  a  strange 
Confused  noise,  partly  with  joy  to  see  him. 
Partly  with  fear  for  what  his  haste  portends,  30 

They  show  as  if  a  sudden  mutiny 
O'erspread  the  city. 

Num.         Cousin,  take  your  chamber.  [Exit  Virginia. 
What  business  from  the  camp  ? 

Icil.  Sure,  sir,  it  bears 

The  form  of  some  great  danger ;  for  his  horse, 
Bloody  with  spurring,  shows  as  if  he  came 
From  forth  a  battle :  never  did  you  see 
'Mongst  quails  "  or  cocks  in  fight  a  bloodier  heel. 
Than  that  your  brother  strikes  with.     In  this  form 
Of  o'erspent  horseman,"  having,  as  it  seems, 
With  the  distracting  of  his  news,  forgot  40 

House,  friends,  or  change  of  raiment,  he  is  gone 
To  th'  Senate-house. 


SCENE  III]  APPIUS    AND    VIRC.INIA  261 

Num.  Now  the  gods  bring  us  safety  ! 

The  face  of  this  is  cloudy ;   let  us  haste 
To  the  Senate-house,  and  there  inquire  how  near 
The  body  moves  of  this  our  threatened  fear.     [Excunl. 

Scene  III" 

Enter  Appius  melancholy ;  after,  Marcus 

Marcus.    My  lord  — 

Appius.   Thou  troublest  me. 

Marcus.   My  hand's  as  ready  armed  to  work  your  peace, 
As  my  tongue  bold  to  inquire  your  discontents. 
Good  my  lord,  hear  me. 

Appius.  I  am  at  much  variance 

Within  myself ;  there's  discord  in  my  blood ; 
My  powers  are  all  in  combat ;  I  have  nothing 
Left  but  sedition  in  me. 

Marcus.  Trust  my  bosom 

To  be  the  closet  of  your  private  griefs : 
Believe  me,  I  am  uncrannied." 

Appius.  May  I  trust  thee?         10 

Marcus.   As  the  firm  centre  to  endure  the  burden 
Of  your  Hght  foot :  as  you  would  trust  the  poles 
To  bear  on  them  this  airy  canopy. 
And  not  to  fear  their  shrinking.     I  am  strong. 
Fixed  and  unshaking. 

Appius.  Art  thou?  then  thine  ear:"   I  love. 

Marcus.   Ha  !  ha  !  he  ! 

Appius.  Can  this  my  ponderous  secrecy 

Be  in  thine  ear  so  light  ?  seems  my  disturbance 
Worthy  such  scorn  that  thou  derid'st  my  griefs  ? 
BeHeve  me,  Claudius,  I  am  not  a  twig 
That  every  gust  can  shake,  but  'tis  a  tempest  20 

That  must  be  able  to  use  violence 
On  my  grown  branches.     Wherefore  laugh'st  thou,  then  ? 

Marcus.   Not  that  y'  are  moved;   it  makes  me  smile 
in  scorn 


262  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  i 

That, wise  men  cannot  understand  themselves, 

Nor  know  their  own  proved  greatness.    Claudius  laughs  not 

To  think  you  love ;  but  that  you  are  so  hopeless 

Not  to  presume  to  enjoy  whom  you  affect. 

What's  she  in  Rome  your  greatness  cannot  awe, 

Or  your  rich  purse  purchase  ?     Promises  and  threats 

Are  statesmen's  lictors  to  arrest  such  pleasures  30 

As  they  would  bring  within  their  strict  commands : 

Why  should  my  lord  droop,  or  deject  his  eye  ? 

Can  you  command  Rome,  and  not  countermand 

A  woman's  weakness  ?     Let  your  grace  bestow 

Your  purse  and  power  on  me ;   I'll  prostrate  you." 

A  p puis.   Ask  both,  and  lavish  them  to  purchase  me 
The  rich  fee  simple  of  Virginia's  heart. 

Marcus.   Virginia's ! 

Appius.  Her's. 

Marcus,'  I  have  already  found 

An  easy  path  which  you  may  safely  tread, 
Yet  no  man  trace  you. 

Appius.  Thou  art  my  comforter.  40 

Marcus.   Her  father's  busied  in  our  foreign  wars. 
And  there  hath  chief  employment :  all  their  pay 
Must  your  discretion  scantle  ;  keep  it  back ; 
Restrain  it  in  the  common  treasury : 
Thus  may  a  statesman  'gainst  a  soldier  stand. 
To  keep  his  purse  weak,  whilst  you  arm  his  hand. 
Her  father  thus  kept  low,  gifts  and  rewards 
Will  tempt  the  maid  the  sooner ;  nay,  haply  draw 
The  father  in  to  plead  in  your  behalf. 
But  should  these  fail,  then  siege  her  virgin  tower  5° 

With  two  prevailing  engines,  fear  and  power. 

A  ppius.    Go,  then  and  prove  a  speeding  advocate : 
Arm  thee  with  all  our  bounty,  oratory, 
Variety  of  promise. 

Enter  Valerius 
Val.   Lord  Appius,  the  Decemvirate  entreat 


SCENE  IV]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  263 

Your  voice  in  this  day's  Senate.     Old  Virginias 
Craves  audience  from  the  camp,  with  earnest  suit 
For  quick  dispatch. 
Appius.   We  will  attend  the  Senate.     Claudius,  be- 
gone. [Exeunt. 

Scene  IV" 
Enter  Appius,  Oppius,  Valerius,  Numitorius,  etc. 

0pp.  We  sent  to  you  to  assist  us  in  this  counsel 
Touching  the  expeditions  of  our  war. 

Appius.   Ours  is  a  willing  presence  to  the  trouble 
Of  all  state  cares.     Admit  him  from  the  camp. 

Enter  Virginius 

0pp.    Speak  the  camp's  will. 

Virginius.   The  camp  wants  money ;    we  have  store 
of  knocks. 
And  wounds  God's  plenty,  but  we  have  no  pay : 
This  three  months  did  we  never  house  our  heads, 
But  in  yon  great  star-chamber  ! "  never  bedded 
But  in  the  cold  field-beds ;  our  victual  fails  us,  10 

Yet  meet  with  no  supply ;  we're  fairly  promised, 
But  soldiers  cannot  feed  on  promises ; 
All  our  provant  apparel's  torn  to  rags, 
And  our  munition  fails  us.     Will  you  send  us 
To  fight  for  Rome  Uke  beggars  ?     Noble  gentlemen. 
Are  you  the  high  state  of  Decemviri, 
That  have  those  things  in  manage  ?     Pity  us. 
For  we  have  need  on't.     Let  not  your  delays 
Be  cold  to  us,  whose  bloods  have  oft  been  heated 
To  gain  you  fame  and  riches.     Prove  not  to  us  20 

(Being  our  friends)  worse  foes  than  we  fight  with : 
Let's  not  be  starved  in  kindness.     Sleep  you  now 


264  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  i 

Upon  the  bench,  when  your  deaf  ears  should  listen 

Unto  the  wretchless  clamours  of  the  poor  ? 

Then  would  I  had  my  drums  here,  they  might  rattle, 

And  rouse  you  to  attendance.     Most  grave  fathers, 

Show  yourselves  worthy  stewards  to  our  mother, 

Fair  Rome,  to  whom  we  are  no  bastard  sons, 

Though  we  be  soldiers.     She  hath  in  her  store 

Food  to  maintain  life  in  the  camp,  as  well  3° 

As  surfeit  for  the  city.     Do  not  save 

The  foe  a  labour :  send  us  some  supply, 

Lest,  ere  they  kill  us,  we  by  famine  die. 

Appiiis.   Shall  I,  my  lords,  give  answer  to  this  soldier? 

0pp.   Be  you  the  city's  voice. 

Appius.   Virginius,  we  would  have  you  thus  possessed : 
We  sit  not  here  to  be  prescribed  and  taught. 
Nor  to  have  any  suitor  give  us  Hmit, 
Whose  power  admits  no  curb.     Next  know,  Virginius, 
The  camp's  our  servant,  and  must  be  disposed,  4° 

Controlled,  and  used  by  us,  that  have  the  strength 
To  knit  it,  or  dissolve  it.     When  we  please, 
Out  of  our  princely  grace  and  clemency, 
To  look  upon  your  wants,  it  may  be  then 
We  shall  redress  them :  but  till  then,  it  fits  not 
That  any  petty  fellow  waged  by  us 
Should  have  a  tongue  sound  here,  before  a  bench 
Of  such  grave  auditors.     Further  — 

Virginius.    Pray  give  me  leave  : 
Not  here  !     Pray,  Appius,  is  not  this  the  judgement-seat  ? 
Where  should  a  poor  man's  cause  be  heard  but  here  ?  51 
To  you  the  statists  of  long-flourishing  Rome, 
To  you  I  call,  if  you  have  charity, 
If  you  be  human,  and  not  quite  given  o'er 
To  furs  and  metal ; "  if  you  be  Romans, 
If  you  have  any  soldier's  blood  at  all 
Flow  in  your  veins,  help  with  your  able  arms 
To  prop  a  sinking  camp :  an  infinite" 
Of  fair  Rome's  sons,  cold,  weak,  hungry,  and  clotheless, 


SCENE  IV]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  265 

Would  feed  upon  your  surfeit :   will  you  save  them,      60 
Or  shall  they  perish  ? 

Appius.  What  we  will,  we  will ; 

Be'  that  your  answer  :  perhaps  at  further  leisure 
We'll  help  you  ;  not  your  merit,  but  our  pleasure. 

Virginius.   I  will  not  curse  thee,  Appius ;  but  I  wish 
Thou  wert  i'  th'  camp  amongst  the  mutineers 
To  tell  my  answers,  not  to  trouble  me. 
Make  you  us  dogs,  yet  not  allow  us  bones  ? 
O,  what  are  soldiers  come  to  !     Shall  your  camp, 
The  strength  of  all  your  peace,  and  the  iron  wall 
That  rings  this  pomp  in  from  invasive  steel,  70 

Shall  that  decay?     Then  let  the  foreign  fires 
Climb  o'er  these  buildings ;  let  the  sword  and  slaughter 
Chase  the  gowned  Senate  through  the  streets  of  Rome, 
To  double-dye  their  robes  in  scarlet"  :  let 
The     enemy's     stripped     arm     have     his      crimsoned 

brawns 
Up  to  the  elbows  in  your  traitorous  blood ; 
Let  Janus'  temple  be  devolved,"  your  treasures 
Ripped  up  to  pay  the  common  adversaries 
With  our  due  wages.     Do  you  look  for  less  ? 
The  rottenness  of  this  misgoverned  state  80 

Must  grow  to  some  disease,  incurable 
Save  with  a  sack  or  slaughter. 

Appius.  Y'  are  too  bold. 

Virginius.   Know  you  our  extremities  ? 

Appius.  We  do. 

Virginius.   And  v^ill  not  help  them  ? 

Appius.  Yes. 

Virginius.  When  ? 

Appius.  Hereafter. 

Virginius.   Hereafter !    when  so  many  gallant  spirits 
That  yet  may  stand  betwixt  you  and  destruction. 
Are  sunk  in  death  ?     Hereafter  !  when  disorder 
Hath  swallowed  all  our  forces  ? 

Appius.  We'll  hear  no  more. 


266  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  i 

0pp.   Peace,  fellow,  peace  !  know  the  Decemviri, 
And  their  authority ;  we  shall  commit  you  else.  go 

Virginius.   Do  so,  and  I  shall  thank  you ;  be  relieved, 
And  have  a  strong  house  o'er  me ;  fear  no  alarms 
Given  in  the  night  by  any  quick  perdue." 
Your  guilty  in  the  city  feeds  more  dainty 
Than  doth  your  general.     'Tis  a  better  office 
To  be  an  under-keeper  than  a  captain. 
The  gods  of  Rome  amend  it ! 

Appius.   Break  up  the  Senate. 

Virginius.    And  shall  I  have  no  answer  ? 

Appius.   So,  farewell.  [Exeunt  all  but  Virginius. 

Virginius.  What  slave  would  be  a  soldier,  to  be  cen- 
sured 10 1 
By  such  as  ne'er  saw  danger  ?  to  have  our  pay, 
Our  worths,  and  merits,  balanced  in  the  scale 
Of  base  moth-eaten  peace  ?     I  have  had  wounds 
Would  have  made  all  this  bench  faint  and  look  pale, 
But  to  behold  them  searched."     They  lay  their  heads 
On  their  soft  pillows,  pore  upon  their  bags,'' 
Grow  fat  with  laziness  and  resty  ease ; 
And  us  that  stand  betwixt  them  and  disaster, 
They  will  not  spare  a  drachma.     0  !  my  soldiers,  no 
Before  you  want,  I'll  sell  my  small  possessions 
Even  to  my  skin  to  help  you ;  plate  and  jewels, 
All  shall  be  yours.     Men  that  are  men  indeed. 
The  earth  shall  find,"  the  sun  and  air  must  feed. 

Enter  Numitorius,  Icilius,  Valerius,  and  Virginia 

Num.   Your  daughter,  noble  brother,  hearing  late 
Of  your  arrival  from  the  camp,  most  humbly 
Prostrates  her  fiUal  duty. 

Virginius.  Daughter,  rise: 

And  brother,  I  am  only  rich  in  her, 
And  in  your  love,  linked  with  the  honoured  friendship 
Of  those  fair  Roman  lords.     For  you,  Icilius,  120 


SCENE  IV]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  267 

I  hear  I  must  adopt  you  with  the  title 

Of  a  new  son ;  you  are  Virginia's  chief ; 

And  I  am  proud  she  hath  built  her  fair  election 

Upon  such  store  of  virtues.     May  you  grow, 

Although  a  city's  child,  to  know  a  soldier, 

And  rate  him  to  his  merit. 

Icil.  Noble  father, 

(For  henceforth  I  shall  only  use  that  name) 
Our  meeting  was  to  urge  you  to  the  process 
Of  our  fair  contract." 

Virginiiis.  Witness,  gentlemen. 

Here  I  give  up  a  father's  interest,  13° 

But  not  a  father's  love ;  that  I  will  ever 
Wear  next  my  heart,  for  it  was  born  with  her, 
And  grows  still  with  my  age. 

Num.  Icilius, 

Receive  her :  witness,  noble  gentlemen. 

Val.   With  all  my  heart.     I  would  Icilius  could 
Do  as  much  for  mc ;  but  Rome  affords  not  such 
Another  Virginia. 

Virginia.   I  am  my  father's  daughter,  and  by  him 
I  must  be  swayed  in  all  things. 

Num.   Brother,  this  happy  contract  asks  a  feast,      140 
As  a  thing  due  to  such  solemnities : 
It  shall  be  at  my  house,  where  we  this  night 
Will  sport  away  some  hours. 

Virginius.  I  must  to  horse. 

Num.   What,  ride  to-night ! 

Virginius.  Must  see  the  camp  to-night : 

'Tis  full  of  trouble  and  distracted  fears. 
And  may  grow  mutinous :  I  am  bent  to  ride. 

Val.  To-night ! 

Virginius.   I  am  engaged :    short  farewells  now  must 
serve ; 
The  universal  business  calls  me  hence, 
That  toucheth  a  whole  people.     Rome,  I  fear, 
Thou  wilt  pay  use  for  what  thou  dost  forbear."  150 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   SECOND 

Scene  I° 

Enter  Clown,  whispering  Virginia  ;  after  her 
Marcus  with  presents 

Virginia.   Sirrah,  go  tell  Calphurnia  I  am  walking 
To  take  the  air :  entreat  her  company ; 
Say  I  attend  her  coming. 

Clown.  Madam,  I  shall :  but  if  you  could  walk  abroad, 
and  get  an  heir,"  it  were  better ;  for  your  father  hath  a 
fair  revenue,  and  never  a  son  to  inherit. 

Virginia.   You  are,  sirrah 

Clown.  Yes,  I  am  sirrah ;  but  not  the  party  that  is 
born  to  do  that :  though  I  have  no  lordships,  yet  I  have 
so  much  manners  to  give  my  betters  place.  lo 

Virginia.   Whom  mean  you  by  your  betters  ? 

Clown.  I  hope  I  have  learnt  to  know  the  three  degrees 
of  comparison :  for  though  I  be  bonus,  and  you  melior  as 
well  as  mulier,^  yet  my  lord  Icilius  is  opiimus. 

Virginia.  I  see  there's  nothing  in  such  private  done, 
but  you  must  inquire  after. 

Clown.  And  can  you  blame  us,  madam,  to  long  for 
the  merry  day,  as  you  do  for  the  merry  night? 

Virginia.    Will  you  be  gone,  sir  ? 

Clown.  O  yes,  to  my  lady  Calphurnia's ;  I  remember 
my  errand.  [Exit. 

Virginia.    My  father's  wondrous  pensive,  and  withal 
With  a  suppressed  rage  left  his  house  displeased,         23 
And  so  in  post  is  hurried  to  the  camp : 
It  sads  me  much ;  to  expel  which  melancholy, 
I  have  sent  for  company. 

268 


SCKNEI]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  269 

Enter  Marcus  and  Musicians 

Marcus.   This  opportunity  was  subtly  waited : 
It  is  the  best  part  of  a  poUtician, 
When  he  would  compass  aught  to  fame  his  industry," 
Wisely  to  wait  the  advantage  of  the  hours ;  30 

His  happy  minutes  are  not  always  present. 
Express  your  greatest  art ;°  Virginia  hears  you.     [Song. 

Virginia.   0,  I  conceive  the  occasion  of  this  harmony : 
Icilius  sent  it ;  I  must  thank  his  kindness. 

Marcus.   Let  not  Virginia  rate  her  contemplation 
So  high,  to  call  this  visit  an  intrusion  ; 
For  when  she  understands  I  took  my  message 
From  one  that  did  compose  it  with  affection, 
I  know  she  will  not  only  extend  pardon. 
But  grace  it  with  her  favour.  4^ 

Virginia.   You  mediate  excuse  for  courtesies," 
As  if  I  were  so  barren  of  civility, 
Not  to  esteem  it  worthy  of  my  thanks ; 
Assure  yourself  I  could  be  longer  patient 
To  hear  my  ears  so  feasted. 

Marcus.   Join  all  your  voices  till  you  make  the  air 
Proud  to  usurp  your  notes,"*  and  to  please  her 
With  a  sweet  echo  ;  serve  Virginia's  pleasure.  —  [Song. 
As  you  have  been  so  full  of  gentleness 
To  hear  with  patience  what  was  brought  to  serve  you, 
So  hearken  with  your  usual  clemency  51 

To  the  relation  of  a  lover's  sufferings.    ■ 
Your  figure  still  does  revel  in  his  dreams. 
He  banquets  on  your  memory,  yet  finds 
Not  thoughts  enough  to  satisfy  his  wishes ; 
As  if  Virginia  had  composed  his  heart, 
And  filled  it  with  her  beauty. 

Virginia.   I  see  he  is  a  miser  in  his  wishes. 
And  thinks  he  never  has  enough  of  that 
Which  only  he  possesses :  but,  to  give  60 

His  wishes  satisfaction,  let  him  know 


2/0  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  [act  ii 

His  heart  and  mine  do  dwell  so  near  together, 
That  hourly  they  converse  and  guard  each  other. 

Marcus.    Is  fair  Virginia  confident  she  knows 
Her  favour  dwells  with  the  same  man  I  plead  for? 

Virginia.    Unto  Icilius. 

Marcus.  Worthy  fair  one, 

I  would  not  wrong  your  worth  so  to  employ 
My  language  for  a  man  so  much  beneath 
The  merit  of  your  beauty  :  he  I  plead  for 
Has  power  to  make  your  beauty  populous ; "  70 

Your  frown  shall  awe  the  world ;  and  in  your  smile 
Great  Rome  shall  build  her  happiness ; 
Honour  and  wealth  shall  not  be  styled  companions. 
But  servants  to  your  pleasure : 
Then  shall  Icihus,  but  a  refined  citizen," 
Boast  your  affection,  when  lord  Appius  loves  you? 

Virginia.    Bless  his  great  lordship  !     I  was  much  mis- 
taken. 
Let  thy  lord  know,  thou  advocate  of  lust. 
All  the  intentions  of  that  youth  are  honourable. 
Whilst  his  are  filled  with  sensuality:  80 

And  for  a  final  resolution  know, 
Our  hearts  in  love,  Uke  twins,  alike  shall  grow.       [Exit. 

Marcus.   Had  I  a  wife  or  daughter  that  could  please 
him, 
I  would  devote  her  to  him ;  but  I  must 
Shadow"  this  scorn,  and  soothe  him  still  in  lust.     [Exit. 

Scene  H" 
Enter  Six  Soldiers 

First  Soldier.    What  news  yet  of  Virginius'  return  ? 

Second  Soldier.   Not  any. 

First  Soldier.  0,  the  misery  of  soldiers  ! 

They  doubly  starve  us  with  fair  promises. 
We  spread  the  earth  like  hail,  or  new-reaped  corn 


scENi:  II]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  2/1 

In  this  fierce  famine  ;  and  yet  patiently 
Make  our  obedience  the  confined  jail 
That  starves  us. 

lliird  Soldier.      Soldiers,  let  us  draw  our  swords 
While  we  have  strength  to  use  them. 

First  Soldier.  'Tis  a  motion 

Which  nature  and  necessity  commands. 

Enter  Minutius 

Min.   Y'are  of  Virginius'  regiment  ? 

Omnes.  We  are.  lo 

Min.   Why  do  you  swarm  in  troops  thus?     To  your 
quarter  ! 
Is  our  command  grown  idle  ?     To  your  trench  ! 
Come,  I'll  divide  you :  this  your  conference 
Is  not  without  suspect  of  mutiny. 

First  Soldier.    Soldiers,  shall  I  relate  the  grievances 
Of  the  whole  regiment  ? 

Omnes.  Boldly. 

First  Soldier.  Then  thus,  my  lord  — 

Min.    Come,  I  will  not  hear  thee. 

First  Soldier.  Sir,  you  shall. 

Sound  all  the  drums  and  trumpets  in  the  camp, 
To  drown  my  utterance,  yet  above  them  all 
I'll  rear  our  just  complaint.     Stir  not,  my  lord  !  20 

I  vow  you  are  not  safe,  if  you  but  move 
A  sinew  till  you  hear  us. 

Min.  Well,  sir,  command  us; 

You  are  the  general. 

First  Soldier.  No,  my  lord,  not  I ; 

I  am  almost  starved ;  I  wake  in  the  wet  trench, 
Loaded  with  more  cold  iron  than  a  jail 
Would  give  a  murderer,  while  the  general 
Sleeps  in  a  field-bed,  and  to  mock  our  hunger 
Feeds  us  with  scent  of  the  most  curious  fare 
That  makes  his  tables  crack  ;  our  pay  detained 


272  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  [act  ii 

By  those  that  are  our  leaders ;    and,  at  once,  3° 

We  in  this  sad,  and  unprepared  pUght, 
With  the  enemy  and  famine  daily  fight. 

Min.   Do  you  threaten  us  ? 

Omnes.  Sir,  you  shall  hear  him  out. 

First  Soldier.   You  send  us  whips,  and  iron  manacles. 
And  shackles  plenty,  but  the  devil  a  coin. 
Would  you  teach  us  that  cannibal  trick,  my  lord, 
Which  some  rich  men  i'  th'  city  oft  do  use ; 
Shall's  one  devour  another  ? 

Min.  Will  you  hear  me  ? 

First  Soldier.   O    Rome,    th'    art   grown   a   most    un- 
natural mother. 
To  those  have  held  thee  by  the  golden  locks  40 

From  sinking  into  ruin  !     Romulus 
Was  fed  by  a  she-wolf,  but  now  our  wolves 
Instead  of  feeding  us  devour  our  flesh, 
Carouse  our  blood,"  yet  are  not  drunk  with  it, 
For  three  parts  of  't  is  water. 

Min.  Your  captain 

Noble  Virginius,  is  sent  to  Rome 
For  ease  of  all  your  grievances. 

First  Soldier.  'Tis  false. 

Omnes.   Aye,  'tis  false. 

First  Soldier.   He's  stoln  away  from  's  never  to  return  : 
And  now  his  age  will  suffer  him  no  more  5° 

Deal  on  the  enemy,  belike  he'll  turn 
An  usurer,  and  in  the  city  air 
Cut  poor  men's  throats  at  home,"   sitting  in's  chair. 

Min.   You    wrong    one    of    the    honourablest    com- 
manders. 

Omnes.   Honourable  commander ! 

First  Soldier.    Commander  !    aye,  my  lord,  there  goes 
the  thrift : 
In  victories,  the  general  and  commanders 
Share  all  the  honour,  as  they  share  the  spoil ; 
But  in  our  overthrows,  where  lies  the  blame? 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  273 

The  common  soldier's  fault  —  ours  is  the  shame.  60 

What  is  the  reason,  that  being  so  far  distant 

From  the  affrighted  enemy,  we  he 

I'  th'  open  field,  subject  to  the  sick  humours 

Of  heaven  and  earth,  unless  you  could  bestow 

Two  summers  °  on  us  ?     Shall  I  tell  you  truth  ? 

You  account  the  expense  of  engines,  and  of  swords, 

Of  horses  and  of  armour  dearer  far, 

Than  soldiers'  lives. 

Omnes.  Now,  by  the  gods,  you  do. 

First  Soldier.   Observe  you   not   the   ravens   and   the 
crows 
Have  left  the  city  surfeit,  and  with  us  70 

They  make  full  banquets.     Come,  you  birds  of  death, 
And  fill  your  greedy  crops  with  human  flesh ; 
Then  to  the  city  fly,  disgorge  it  there 
Before  the  Senate,  and  from  thence  arise 
A  plague  to  choke  all  Rome  ! 

Omnes.  And  all  the  suburbs  ! 

Min.   Upon  a  soldier's  word,  bold  gentlemen, 
I  expect  every  hour  Virginius 
To  bring  fresh  comfort. 

Omnes.  Whom  ?     Virginius  ? 

First  Soldier.   Now,  by  the  gods,  if  ever  he  return, 
We'll  drag  him  to  the  slaughter  by  his  locks,  80 

Turned  white  with  riot  and  incontinence. 
And  leave  a  precedent  to  all  the  world, 
How  captains  use  their  soldiers  ! 

Enter  Virginius 

Min.  See,  he's  returned. 

Virginius,  you  are  not  safe  ;  retire. 
Your  troops  are  mutinous ;  we  are  begirt 
With  enemies  more  daring,  and  more  fierce. 
Than  is  the  common  foe. 

Vixginius.  My  troops,  my  lord  ! 


274  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  ii 

Min.   Your  life  is  threatened  by  these  desperate  men ; 
Betake  you  to  your  horse. 

Virginius.  My  noble  lord, 

I  never  yet  professed  to  teach  the  art  90 

Of  flying.     Ha  !  our  troops  grown  mutinous  ! 
He  dares  not  look  on  me  with  half  a  face 
That  spread  this  wildfire.     Where  is  our  lieutenant  ? 

Enter  Valerius 

Val.   My  lord. 

Virginius.    Sirrah,  order  our  companies. 

Min.  What  do  you  mean,  my  lord  ? 

Virginius.   Take  air  a  little,  they  have  heated  me. 
Sirrah,  is't  you  will  mutiny  ? 

Third  Soldier.  Not  I,  sir. 

Virginius.    Is  your  gall  burst,"  you  traitor  ? 

Fourth  Soldier.  The  gods  defend,  sir  ! 

Virginius.   Or  is  your  stomach  sea-sick  ?  doth  it  rise  ? 
I'll  make  a  passage  for  it.  100 

Fifth  Soldier.   Noble   captain,    I'll   die   beneath   your 
foot. 

Virginius.   You  rough  porcupine,  ha  ! 
Do  you  bristle,  do  you  shoot  your  quills,"  you  rogue  ? 

First  Soldier.   They    have    no    points    to    hurt    you, 
noble  captain. 

Virginius.    Was't  you,  my  nimble  shaver,  that  would 
whet 
Your  sword  'gainst  your  commander's  throat,  you  sirrah  ? 

Sixth  Soldier.    My  lord,  I  never  dreamed  on't. 

Virginius.  Slaves  and  cowards, 

What,  are  you  choleric  now  ?  By  the  gods. 
The  way  to  purge  it  were  to  let  you  blood  ! 
I  am  i'  th'  centre  of  you,  and  I'll  make  no 

The  proudest  of  you  teach  the  aspen  leaf 
To  tremble,  when  I  breathe. 

Min.  A  strange  conversion. 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  275 

Virginius.     Advance  your  pikes!"  the  word! 

Omnes.  Advance  your  pikes  ! 

Virginius.    See,  noble  lord,  these  are  no  mutineers. 
These  are  obedient  soldiers,  civil  men : 
You  shall  command  these,  if  your  lordship  please, 
To  fill  a  ditch  up  with  their  slaughtered  bodies. 
That  with  more  ease  you  may  assault  some  town. 
So,  now  lay  down  your  arms  !     Villains  and  traitors, 
I  here  cashier  you  :  hence  !  from  me,  my  poison  !         120 
Not  worthy  of  our  discipline :  go  beg. 
Go  beg,  you  mutinous  rogues  !  brag  of  the  service 
You  ne'er  durst  look  on  :  it  were  charity  * 

To  hang  you,  for  my  mind  gives  y'are  reserved 
To  rob  poor  market  women. 

Min.  O  Virginius  ! 

Virginius.   I  do  beseech  you  to  confirm  my  sentence, 
As  you  respect  me.     I  will  stand  myself 
For  the  whole  regiment ;   and  safer  far 
In  mine  own  single  valour,  than  begirt 
With  cowards  and  with  traitors.  130 

Min.   O  my  lord  !  you  are  too  severe. 

Virginius.    Now,  by  the  gods,  my  lord, 
You  know  no  discipline,  to  pity  them. 
Precious  devils  !   no  sooner  my  back  turned, 
But  presently  to  mutiny. 

Omnes.  Dear  captain! 

Virginius.    Refuse  me  ! "   if  such  traitorous  rogues 
Would  not  confound  an  army.     When  do  you  march  ? 
When  do  you  march,  gentlemen  ? 

First  Soldier.  My  lord,  we'll  starve  first ; 

We'll  hang  first ;  by  the  gods,  do  anything. 
Ere  we'll  forsake  you. 

Min.  Good  Virginius,  140 

Limit  your  passion. 

Virginius.  Sir,  you  may  take  my  place. 

Not  my  just  anger  from  me.     These  are  they 
Have  bred  a  dearth  i'  th'  camp :  I'll  wish  our  foes 


2/6  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  [act  il 

No  greater  plague  than  to  have  their  company. 
Show  but  among  them  all  so  many  scars 
As  stick  upon  this  flesh,  I'll  pardon  them. 

Min.   How  now,  my  lord,  breathless  ? 

Virginius.  By  your  favour.     I  ha'  said  — 

Mischiefs  confound  me  !  if  I  could  not  wish 
My  youth  renewed  again,  with  all  her  follies, 
Only  t'have  breath  enough  to  rail  against  150 

These  —  'tis  too  short. 

Min.    See,  gentlemen,  what  strange  distraction 
Your  falling  off  from  duty  hath  begot 
In  this  most  noble  soldier :  you  may  live, 
The  meanest  of  you,  to  command  a  troop, 
And  then  in  others  you'll  correct  those  faults, 
Which  in  yourselves  you  cherished :  every  captain 
Bears  in  his  private  government  that  form. 
Which  kings  should  o'er  their  subjects,  and  to  them 
Should  be  the  like  obedient."     We  confess  160 

You  have  been  distressed ;   but  can  you  justly  challenge 
Any  commander  that  hath  surfeited, 
While  that  your  food  was  limited?     You  cannot. 

Virginius.    My  lord,  I  have  shared  with  them  an  equal 
fortune. 
Hunger  and  cold,  marched  thorough  watery  fens. 
Borne  as  great  burdens  as  the  pioner. 
When  scarce  the  ground  would  bear  me. 

Min.    Good  my  lord,  give  us  leave  tt)  proceed. 
The  punishment  your  captain  hath  inflicted 
Is  not  sufiEicient ;   for  it  cannot  bring  170 

Any  example  to  succeeding  times 
Of  penance  worth  your  faulting  :    happily, 
It  may  in  you  beget  a  certain  shame ; 
But  it  will  in  others  a  strong  hope 
Of  the  like  lenity.     Yet,  gentlemen, 
You  have  in  one  thing  given  me  such  a  taste 
Of  your  obedience :  when  the  fire  was  raised 
Of  fierce  sedition,  and  the  cheek  was  swollen 


scKNK  II]  APPIUS    AND    \IK(;iNlA  277 

To  sound  the  fatal  trumpet,  then  the  sight 

Of  this  your  worthy  captain  did  disperse  180 

All  those  unfruitful  humours,  and  even  then 

Convert  you  from  fierce  tigers  to  staid  men : 

We  therefore  pardon  you,  and  do  restore 

Your  captain  to  you,  you  unto  your  captain. 

Omnes.   The  gods  requite  you,  noble  general. 

Min.    My  lord,  my  lord  ! 

Omnes.  Your  pardon,  noble  captain. 

Virginius.    Well,  you  are  the  general,  and  the  fault 
is  quit ; 
A  soldier's  tears,  an  elder  brother's  wit. 
Have  httle  salt  in  them,  nor  do  they  season 
Things  worth  observing,  for  their  want  of  reason.         190 
Take  up  your  arms  and  use  them,  do,  I  pray ; 
Ere  long,  you'll  take  your  legs  to  run  away. 

Min.   And  what  supply  from  Rome  ? 

Virginius.  Good  store  of  corn. 

Min.    What  entertainment  there  ? 

Virginius.  Most  honourable, 

Especially  by  the  lord  Appius. 
There  is  great  hope  that  Appius  will  grow 
The  soldier's  patron  :  with  what  vehemency 
He  urged  our  w^ants,  and  with  w^hat  expedition 
He  hasted  the  supplies,  it  is  almost 

Incredible.     There's  promised  to  the  soldier,  200 

Besides  their  corn,  a  bounteous  donative ;  [A  shout. 

But  'tis  not  cetain  yet  when  't  shall  be  paid. 

Min.   How  for  your  own  particular  ? 

Virginius.  My  lord, 

I  was  not  entered  fully  two  pikes'  length 
Into  the  Senate,  but  they  all  stood  bare. 
And  each  man  offered  me  his  seat.     The  business 
For  which  I  went  dispatched,  what  gifts,  what  favours 
Were  done  me,  your  good  lordship  shall  not  hear, 
For  you  would  wonder  at  them  ;  only  this, 
'Twould  make  a  man  fight  up  to  th'  neck  in  blood,      -:io 


2/8  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  il 

To  think  how  nobly  he  shall  be  received 
When  he  returns  to  th'  city. 

Min.  'Tis  well ; 

Give  order  the  provision  be  divided, 
And  sent  to  every  quarter. 

Virginius.  Sir,  it  shall.  — 

[^^iJe.]  Thus   men    must   slight   their   wrongs,   or   else 

conceal  them, 
When  general  safety  wills  us  not  reveal  them.       [Exeunt. 

Scene  III"  , 

Enter  Two  Petitioners  at  one  door ;  at  the  other  Marcus 

First  Pet.    Pray,  is  your  lord  at  leisure  ? 

Marcus.  What  is  your  suit  ? 

First  Pet.   To  accept  this  poor  petition,  which  makes 
known 
My  many  wrongs,  in  which  I  crave  his  justice, 
And  upright  sentence  to  support  my  cause. 
Which  else  is  trod  down  by  oppression. 

Marcus.    My  lord's  hand  is  the  prop  of  innocence, 
And  if  your  cause  be  worthy  his  supportance. 
It  cannot  fall. 

First  Pet.         The  gods  of  Rome  protect  him  ! 

Marcus.   What  is  your  paper,  too,  petitionary  ? 

Second  Pet.   It  leans  upon  the  justice  of  the  judge,     lo 
Your  noble  lord,  the  very  stay  of  Rome. 

Marcus.   And  surer  basis,  for  a  poor  man's  cause, 
She  cannot  yield.     Your  papers  I'll  deliver. 
And  when  my  lord  ascends  the  judgement-seat, 
You  shall  find  gracious  comfort. 

Enter  Icilius  troubled 

Icil.  Where's  your  lord  ? 

Marcus.  [Aside.]   Icilius!  fair  Virginia's  late  betrothed. 


SCENE  III]  APPIUS    A\D    VIRGINIA  279 

Icil.    Your  ears,  I  hope,  you  have  not  forfeited, 
That  you  return  no  answer :  where's  your  lord  ? 

Marcus.   At  's  study. 

Icil.  ,      I  desire  admittance  to  him. 

Marcus.   Please  you  attend,  I'll  know  his  lordship's 
pleasure. —  20 

[Aside]  Icilius  !   I  pray  Heaven  she  have  not  blabbed. 

Icil.   Attend!    A  petty  lawyer  t'other  day, 
Glad  of  a  fee,  but  called  to  eminent  place, 
Even  to  his  betters  now  the  word  's  attend. 
This  gowned  office,  what  a  breadth  it  bears  ! 
How  many  tempests  wait  upon  his  frown  ! 

Enter  Marcus 

Marcus.   All  the  petitioners  withdraw. 

[Exeunt  Petitioners. 
Lord  Appius 
Must  have  this  place  more  private,  as  a  favour 
Reserved  for  you,  Icilius.     Here's  my  lord. 

Enter  Appius  with  Lictors  afore  him 

Appius.   Begone;   this  place  is  only  spared  for  us ;     30 
And  you,  Icilius :   now  your  business. 

Icil.   May  I  speak  it  freely  ? 

Appius.  We  have  suffering  ears, 

A  heart  the  softest  down  may  penetrate : 
Proceed. 

Icil.        My  lord  — 

Appius.  We  are  private ;  pray  your  courtesy. 

Icil.   My  duty  — 

Appius.  Leave  that  to  th'  public  eye 

Of  Rome,  and  of  Rome's  people.     Claudius,  there ! 

Marcus.   My  lord. 


28o  APPIUS    AND   VIRGINIA  [act  ii 

Appius.  Place  me  a  second  chair ;   that  done, 

Remove  yourself.     So,  now  your  absence,  Claudius. 

[Exit  Marcus. 
Icilius,  sit ;   this  grace  we  make  not  common 
Unto  the  noblest  Roman,  but  to  you  4° 

Our  love  affords  it  freely.     Now  your  suit  ? 

Icil.   It  is,  you  would  be  kind  unto  the  camp. 

Appius.   Wherein,  Icilius,  doth  the  camp  touch  thee  ? 

Icil.   Thus :  old  Virginius,  now  my  father-in-law, 
Kept  from  the  public  pay,  consumes  himself, 
Sells  his  revenues,  turns  his  plate  to  coin. 
To  wage  his  soldiers,  and  supply  the  camp ; 
Wasting  that  useful  substance  which  indeed 
Should  rise  to  me,  as  my  Virginia's  dowry. 

Appius.   We  meet  that  opposition  thus,  Icilius  :  50 

The  camp's  supplies  doth  not  consist  in  us, 
But  those  that  keep  the  common  Treasury; 
Speak  or  entreat  we  may,  but  not  command. 
But,  sir,  I  wonder  you,  so  brave  a  youth. 
Son  to  a  thrifty  Roman,  should  ally  you, 
And  knit  your  strong  arms  to  such  falling  branches ; 
Which  rather  in  their  ruin  will  bear  down 
Your  strength,  than  you  support  their  rottenness. 
Be  swayed  by  me ;  fly  from  that  ruinous  house, 
Whose  fall  may  crush  you,  and  contract  with  mine,       60 
Whose  bases  are  of  marble,  deeply  fixed 
To  maugre  all  gusts  and  impending  storms. 
Cast. off  that  beggar's  daughter,  poor  Virginia, 
Whose  dowry  and  beauty  I'll  see  trebled  both, 
In  one  allied  to  me.     Smile  you,  Icilius  ? 

Icil.    My  lord,  my  lord,  think  you  I  can  imagine 
Your  close  and  sparing  hand  can  be  profuse 
To  give  that  m^n  a  palace,  whom  you  late 
Denied  a  cottage  ?     Will  you  from  your  own  coffers 
Grant  me  a  treble  dowry,  yet  interpose  me  7° 

A  poor  third  from  the  common  Treasury  ? 
You  must  move  me  by  possibilities, 


SCKNE  HI]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  281 

For  I  have  brains :  give  first  your  hand  and  seal, 
That  old  Virginius  shall  receive  his  pay, 
Both  for  himself  and  soldiers,  and  that  done, 
I  shall  perhaps  be  soon  induced  to  think 
That  you,  who  with  such  willingness  did  that  — 

A  ppius.   Is  my  love  misprized  ? 

Icil.  Not  to  Virginia. 

A  ppius.   Virginia  ! 

Icil.  Yes,  Virginia,  lustful  lord. 

I  did  but  trace  your  cunning  all  this  while :  80 

You  would  bestow  me  on  some  Appian  trull. 
And  for  that  dross  to  cheat  me  of  my  gold : 
For  this  the  camp  pines,  and  the  city  smarts. 
All  Rome  fares  worse  for  thy  incontinence. 

A  ppius.   Mine,  boy  ! 

Icil.  Thine,  judge.     This  hand  hath  intercepted 

Thy  letters,  and  perused  thy  tempting  gifts ; 
These  ears  have  heard  thy  amorous  passions,  wretch  ! 
These  eyes  beheld  thy  treacherous  name  subscribed. 
A  judge  ?  a  devil ! 

A  ppius.  Come,  I'll  hear  no  more. 

Icil.   Sit  still,  or  by  the  powerful  gods  of  Rome  90 

I'll  nail  thee  to  the  chair :  but  suffer  me, 
I'll  offend  nothing  but  thine  ears. 

A  ppius.  Our  secretary"  — 

Icil.    Tempt  not  a  lover's  fury ;.  if  thou  dost. 
Now  by  my  vow,  insculpt  in  heaven,  I'll  send  thee  — 

A  ppius.   You  see  I  am  patient. 

Icil.    But  withal  revengeless. 

A  ppius.  So,  say  on. 

Icil.   Hope  not  of  any  grace,  or  the  least  favour : 
I  am  so  covetous  of  Virginia's  love, 
I  cannot  spare  thee  the  least  look,  glance,  touch : 
Divide  one  bare  imaginary  thought  100 

Into  a  thousand,  thousand  parts,  and  that 
I'll  not  afford  thee. 

A  ppius.  Thou  shalt  not. 


282  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  n 

Icil.  Nay,  I  will  not ; 

Hadst  thou  a  judge's  place  above  those  judges 
That  judge  all  souls,  having  power  to  sentence  me 
I  would  not  bribe  thee,  no,  not  with  one  hair 
From  her  fair  temples. 

Appius.  Thou  should'st  not. 

Icil.  Nay,  I  would  not. 

Think  not  her  beauty  shall  have  leave  to  crown 
Thy  lustful  hopes  with  the  least  spark  of  bliss. 
Or  have  thine  ears  charmed  with  the  ravishing  sound 
Even  of  her  harshest  phrase. 

Appius.  I  will  not. 

Icil.  Nay,  thou  shalt  not.    no 

She's  mine,  my  soul  is  crowned  in  her  desire. 
To  her  I'd  travel  through  a  land  of  fire. 

Appius.   Now,  have  you  done? 

Icil.  I  have  spoke  my  thoughts. 

Appius.   Then  will  thy  fury  give  me  leave  to  speak? 

Icil.   I  pray,  say  on. 

Appius.   Icilius,  I  must  chide  you,  and  withal 
Tell  you  your  rashness  hath  made  forfeiture 
Even  of  your  precious  life,  which  we  esteems^ 
Too  dear  to  call  in  question.     If  I  wished  you 
Of  my  alliance,  graft  into  my  blood,  120 

Condemn  you  me  for  that  ?     O,  see  the  rashness 
And  blind  misprision  of  distempered  youth  ! 
As  for  the  maid  Virginia,  we  are  far. 
Even  in  least  thought,  from  her ;   and  for  those  letters, 
Tokens,  and  presents,  we  acknowledge  none. 
Alas  !  though  great  in  place,  we  are  not  gods : 
If  any  false  impostor  hath  usurped 
Our  hand  or  greatness  in  his  own  behoof. 
Can  we  help  that  ?     Icilius,  there's  our  hand. 
Your  rashness  we  remit ;  let's  have  hereafter  13° 

Your  love  and  best  opinion.     For  your  suit, 
Repair  to  us  at  both  our  better  leisures, 
We'll  breathe  in  it  new  life. 


SCENE  iiij  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  283 

Icil.  I  crave  your  pardon. 

Appius.    Granted  ere  craved,  my  good  Icilius. 

Icil.  Morrow." 

Appius.   It  is  no  more  indeed."      Morrow,  Icilius. 
If  any  of  our  servants  wait  without, 
Command  them  in. 

Icil.  I  shall. 

Appius.  Our  secretary ; 

We  have  use  for  him ;  Icilius,  send  him  hither : 
Again,  good-morrow.  [Exit  Icilius. 

Go  to  thy  death,  thy  life  is  doomed  and  cast.  140 

Appius,  be  circumspect,  and  be  not  rash 
In  blood,  as  th'  art  in  lust :  be  murderous  still ; 
But  when  thou  strik'st,  with  unseen  weapons  kill. 

Enter  Marcus 

Marcus.  My  honourable  lord. 

Appius.  Deride  me,  dog  ! 

Marcus.  Who  hath  stirred  up  this  tempest  in  your  brow  ? 

Appius.  Not  you?  fie!  you. 

Marcus.  All  you  Panthean  gods" 

Confound  me,  if  my  soul  be  accessory 
To  your  distractions  ! 

Appius.  To  send  a  ruffian  hither, 

Even  to  my  closet ;  first,  to  brave  my  greatness, 
Play  with  my  beard,  re\dle  me,  taunt  me,  hiss  me ;       150 
Nay,  after  all  these  deep  disparagements. 
Threat  me  with  steel,  and  menace  me,  unarmed, 
To  nail  me  to  my  seat  if  I  but  moved : 
All  these  are  slight,  slight  toys  ! 

Marcus.  Icilius  do  this  ? 

Appius.    Ruffian  Icilius  :   he  that  in  the  front 
Of  a  smooth  citizen  bears  the  rugged  soul 
Of  a  most  base  banditto. 

Marcus.  He  shall  die  for't. 

Appius.   Be  not  too  rash. 


284  APPIUS    AND   VIRGINIA  [act  ll 

Marcus.   Were  there  no  more  men  to  support  great 
Rome, 
Even  falling  Rome  should  perish  ere  he  stand :  160 

I'll  after  him,  and  kill  him. 

Appius.  Stay,  I  charge  thee. 

Lend  me  a  patient  ear :  to  right  our  wrongs. 
We  must  not  menace  with  a  public  hand ; 
We  stand  in  the  world's  eye,  and  shall  be  taxed 
Of  the  least  violence,  where  we  revenge. 
We  should  smile  smoothest  where  our  hate's  most  deep, 
And  when  our  spleen's  broad  waking,  seem  to  sleep. 
Let  the  young  man  play  still  upon  the  bit. 
Till  we  have  brought  and  trained  him  to  our  lure ; 
Great  men  should  strike  but  once,  and  then  strike  sure. 

Marcus.   Love  you  Virginia  still  ? 

Appius.  Do  I  still  live  ?    171 

Marcus.   Then  she's  your  own.     Virginius  is,  you  say, 
Still  in  the  camp  ? 

Appius.   True. 

Marcus.   Now  in  his  absence  will  I  claim  Virginia 
To  be  the  daughter  of  a  bondwoman, 
And  slave  to  me ;  to  prove  which,  I'll  produce 
Firm  proofs,  notes  probable,"  sound  witnesses : 
Then,  having  with  your  Lictors  summoned  her, 
I'll  bring  the  cause  before  your  judgement-seat ;  180 

Where,  upon  my  infallid  evidence, 
You  may  pronounce  the  sentence  on  my  side. 
And  she  become  your  strumpet,  not  your  bride. 

Appius.   Thou  hast  a  copious  brain:  but  how  in  this 
Shall  we  dispose  Icilius  ? 

Marcus.  If  he  spurn, 

Clap  him  up  close ;  there's  ways  to  charm  his  spleen. 
By  this  no  scandal  can  redound  to  you ; 
The  cause  is  mine ;  you  but  the  sentencer 
Upon  that  evidence  which  I  shall  bring. 
The  business  isj  t'  have  warrants  by  arrest,"  19° 

To  answer  such  things  at  the  judgement-bar 


SCENE  III]  APPIUS    AND   VIRCrNIA  285 

As  can  be  laid  against  her :  ere  her  friends 

Can  be  assembled,  ere  herself  can  study 

Her  answer,  or  scarce  know  her  cause  of  summons 

To  descant  on  the  matter,  Appius  may 

Examine,  try,  and  doom  Virginia. 

But  all  this  must  be  sudden. 

Appius.  Thou  art  born 

To  mount  me  high  above  Icilius'  scorn. 
I'll  leave  it  to  thy  manage.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   THIRD 

Scene  I° 
Enter  Nurse  atid  the  Clown 

Clown.   What  was  that  you  said,  Nurse  ? 

Nurse.   Why,  I  did  say  thou  must  bestir  thyself. 

Clown.  I  warrant  you,  I  can  bestir  my  stumps  as 
soon  as  another,  if  fit  occasion  be  offered :  but  why  do 
you  come  upon  me  in  such  haste?  is  it  because. 
Nurse,  I  should  come  over  you  at  leisure  ? 

Nurse.  Come  over  me,  thou  knave;  what  dost  thou 
mean  by  that  ? 

Clown.   Only  this ;  if  you  will  come  off,  I  will  come  on. 

Nurse.  My  lord  hath  strangers  to-night :  you  must 
make  ready  the  parlour,  a  table  and  hghts :  nay,  when," 
I  say?  12 

Clown.  Methinks  you  should  rather  wish  for  a  bed  than 
for  a  board,  for  darkness  than  for  lights ;  yet  I  must  confess 
you  have  been  a  light  woman  °  in  your  time :  but  now  — 

Nurse.   But  now  !  what  now,  you  knave  ? 

Clown.  But  now  I'll  go  fetch  the  table  and  some 
lights  presently. 

Enter  Numitorius,  Horatius,  Valerius,  and  Icilius 

Num.   Some  lights  to  usher  in  these  gentlemen. 
Clear  all  the  rooms  without  there.     Sit,  pray  sit.  20 

None  interrupt  our  conference. 

286 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS    AND   VIRGINIA  287 

Enter  Virginia 

Ha,  who's  that  ? 

Nurse.  My  [foster-]  child,"  if  it  please  you. 

Num.   Fair  Virginia,  you  are  welcome. 
The  rest  forbear  us  till  we  call.  [Exeunt  Nurse  and  Clown. 

Sweet  cousin, 
Our  business  and  the  cause  of  our  discourse 
Admits  you  to  this  council :  take  your  place. 
Icilius,  we  are  private ;  now  proceed. 

Icil.   Then  thus :  lord  Appius  doth  intend  me  wrong ; 
And  under  his  smooth  calmness  cloaks  a  tempest, 
That  will  ere  long  break  out  in  violence  3° 

On  me  and  on  my  fortunes. 

Num.  My  good  cousin. 

You  are  young,  and  youth  breeds  rashness.     Can  I  think 
Lord  Appius  will  do  wrong,  who  is  all  justice ; 
The  most  austere  and  upright  censurer 
That  ever  sat  upon  the  awful  bench  ? 

Val.   Icilius,  you  are  near  to  me  in  blood, 
And  I  esteem  your  safety  as  mine  own : 
If  you  will  needs  wage  eminence  and  state, 
Choose  out  a  weaker  opposite,  not  one 
That,  in  his  arm,  bears  all  the  strength  of  Rome.  40 

Num.   Besides,  Icihus, 
Know  you  the  danger,  what  it  is  to  scandal 
One  of  his  place  and  sway  ? 

Icil.   I  know  it,  kinsmen ;  yet  this  popular  greatness 
Can  be  no  bugbear  to  affright  mine  innocence. 
No,  his  smooth  crest  hath  cast  a  palped  film 
Over  Rome's  eyes.     He  juggles,  —  a  plain  juggler ; 
Lord  Appius  is  no  less. 

Num.  Nay,  then,  cousin. 

You  are  too  harsh,  and  I  must  hear  no  more. 
It  ill  becomes  my  place  and  gravity,  50 

To  lend  a  face  to  such  reproachful  terms 
'Gainst  one  of  his  high  presence. 


288  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  hi 

Icil.  Sit,  pray  sit, 

To  see  me  draw  his  picture  'fore  your  eyes, 
To  make  this  man  seem  monstrous,  and  this  god 
Rome  so  adores,  a  devil,  a  plain  devil. 
This  lord,  this  judge,  this  Appius,  that  professeth 
To  all  the  world  a  vestal  chastity. 
Is  an  incontinent,  loose  lecher  grown. 

Num.   Fie,  cousin  ! 

Icil.  Nay,  'tis  true.     Daily  and  hourly 

He  tempts  this  blushing  virgin  with  large  promises,     60 
With  melting  words,  and  presents  of  high  rate, 
To  be  the  stale  to  his  unchaste  desires. 

Omnes.  Is't  possible  ? 

Icil.   Possible ! 
'Tis  actual  truth ;  I  pray  but  ask  your  niece. 

Virginia.     Most    true,    I    am    extremely   tired    and 
wearied 
With  messages  and  tokens  of  his  love ; 
No  answer,  no  repulse  will  satisfy 
The  tediousness  of  his  importunate  suit. 
And  whilst  I  could  with  modesty  and  honour, 
Without  the  danger  of  reproach  and  shame,  7° 

I  kept  it  secret  from  Icilius ; 
But  when  I  saw  their  boldness  found  no  limit, 
And  they  from  fair  entreaty  grew  to  threats, 
I  told  him  all. 

Icil.  True :   understanding  which 

To  him  I  went. 

Val.  To  Appius  ? 

Icil.  To  that  giant, 

The  high  Colossus  that  bestrides  us  all ; 
I  went  to  him. 

Hor.  How  did  you  bear  yourself  ? 

Icil.  Like  Appius,  at  the  first,  dissemblingly ; 
But  when  I  saw  the  coast  clear,  all  withdrawn. 
And  none  but  we  two  in  the  lobby,  then  80 

I  drew  my  poniard,  took  him  by  the  throat. 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  289 

And  when  he  would  have  clamoured,  threatened  death, 
Unless  he  would  with  patience  hear  me  out. 

Num.    Did  he,  Icilius  ? 

Icil.  I  made  him  that  he  durst  not  squeak, 
Not  move  an  eye,  not  draw  a  breath  too  loud, 
Nor  stir  a  linger. 

Hor.  What  succeeded  then  ? 

Num.  Keep  fast  the  door  there  !    Sweet  coz,  not  too 
loud. 
What  then  succeeded  ? 

Icil.  Why,  I  told  him  all ; 

Gave  him  his  due,  called  him  lascivious  judge,  9° 

(A  thousand  things  which  I  have  now  forgot) 
Showed  him  his  hand  a  witness  'gainst  himself," 
And  everything  with  such  known  circumstance, 
That  he  might  well  excuse,  but  not  deny. 

Num.   How  parted  you  ? 

Icil.  Why,  friends  in  outward  show : 

But  I  perceived  his  heart :  that  hypocrite 
Was  born  to  gull  Rome,  and  deceive  us  all. 
He  swore  to  me  quite  to  abjure  her  love ; 
Yet  ere  myself  could  reach  Virginia's  chamber, 
One  was  before  me  with  regreets  from  him  ;  100 

I  know  his  hand.     Th'  intent  of  this  our  meeting 
Was  to  entreat  your  counsel  and  advice  : 
The  good  old  man,  her  father,  is  from  home ;     . 
I  think  it  good  that  she  now  in  his  absence 
Should  lodge  in  secret  with  some  private  friend, 
Where  Appius  nor  his  Lictors,  those  bloodhounds, 
Can  hunt  her  out.     You  are  her  uncle,  sir, 
I  pray,  counsel  the  best. 

Num.  To  oppose  ourselves, 

Now  in  this  heat,  against  so  great  a  man. 
Might,  in  my  judgement,  to  ourselves  bring  danger,    no 
And  to  my  niece  no  safety.     If  we  fall, 
She  cannot  stand ;  let's  then  preserve  ourselves" 
Until  her  father  be  discharged  the  camp. 


290  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iii 

Val.  And,  good  Icilius,  for  your  private  ends, 
And  the  dear  safety  of  your  friends  and  kindred, 
Against  that  statist  spare  to  use  your  spleen. 

Icil.   I  will  be  swayed  by  you.     My  lords,  'tis  late, 
And  time  to  break  up  conference.     Noble  uncle, 
I  am  your  growing  debtor. 

Num.  Lights  without  there  ! 

Icil.   I  will  conduct  Virginia  to  her  lodging.  120 

Good  night  to  all  at  once. 

Num.   The  gods  of  Rome  protect  you  all !  and  then 
We  need  not  fear  the  envious  rage  of  men.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  11° 
Enter  Marcus,  with  Four  Lictors 

Marcus.   Lictors,  bestow  yourselves  in  some  close  shops 
About  the  Forum,  till  you  have  the  sight 
Of  fair  Virginia ;  for  I  understand 
This  present  morning  she'll  come  forth  to  buy 
Some  necessaries,  at  the  sempsters'  shops  : 
Howe'er  accompanied,  be  it  your  care 
To  seize  her  at  our  action.     Good,  my  friends, 
Disperse  yourselves,  and  keep  a  careful  watch.         [Exit. 

First  Lict.    'Tis  strange  that  ladies  will  not  pay  their 
debts." 

Second  Lict.  It  were  strange,  indeed,  if  that  our  Romai* 
knights  would  give  them  good  example,  and  pay  theirs. 

First  Lict.  The  calendar  that  we  Lictors  go  by  is  all 
dog-days.  13 

Second  Lict.  Right ;  our  common  hunt  is  still  to  dog 
unthrifts. 

First  Lict.   And  what's  your  book  of  common  prayer  ? 

Second  Lict.  Faith,  only  for  the  increase  of  riotous 
young  gentlemen  i'  th'  country,  and  banquerouts  i'  th' 
city. 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  291 

First  Lid.  I  know  no  man  more  valiant  than  we  are, 
for  we  back  knights  and  gentlemen  daily.  21 

Second  Lid.  Right,  wc  have  them  by  the  back  hourly : 
your  French  fly "  applied  to  the  na[)e  of  the  neck  for  the 
French  rheum,  is  not  so  sore  a  drawer  as  a  Lictor. 

First  Lid.  Some  say  that  if  a  little-timbered  fellow 
would  jostle  a  great  loggerhead,  let  him  be  sure  to  lay 
him  i'  th'  kennel;"  but  when  we  shoulder  a  knight,  or 
a  knight's  fellow,  we  make  him  more  sure,  for  we  kennel 
him  i'  th'  counter." 

Second  Lid.    Come,  let's  about  our  business.  30 

Enter  Virginia,  Nurse,  and  Clown 

Virginia.  You  are  grown  wondrous  amorous  of  late. 
Why  do  you  look  back  so  often  ? 

Clown.  Madam,  I  go  as  a  Frenchman  rides,  all  upon 
one  buttock. 

Virginia.   And  what's  the  reason  ? 

Clown.  Your  ladyship  never  saw  a  monkey  in  all 
your  lifetime  have  a  clog  at's  tail,  but  he's  still  looking 
back  to  see  what  the  devil  'tis  that  follows  him. 

Nurse.   Very  good ;  we  are  your  clogs  then. 

Virginia.   Your  crest  is  grown  regardant.  40 

Here's  the  beauty" 
That  makes  your  eyes  forgetful  of  their  way. 

Clown.  Beauty  !  O,  the  gods  !  madam,  I  cannot  en- 
dure her  complexion. 

Nurse.   Why,  sir,  what's  my  complexion  ? 

Clown.  Thy  complexion  is  just  between  a  Moor  and 
a  Frenchwoman. 

Virginia.   But  she  hath  a  matchless  eye,  sir. 

Clown.  True,  her  eyes  are  not  right  matches ;  besides, 
she  is  a  widow.  50 

Nurse.   What  then,  I  pray  you  ? 

Clown.  Of  all  waters,  I  would  not  have  my  beef  pow- 
dered with  a  widow's  tears." 


292  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  hi 

Virginia.    Why,  I  beseech  you  ? 

Clown.  O,  they  are  too  fresh,  madam;  assure  your- 
self they  will  not  last  for  the  death  of  fourteen  hus- 
bands above  a  day  and  a  quarter:  besides,  if  a  man 
come  a  wooing  to  a  widow,  and  invite  her  to  a  banquet, 
contrary  to  the  old  rule,  she  will  sooner  fill  her  eye 
than  her  belly.  Besides  that,  if  he  look  into  her  estate, 
first  —  look  you,  here  are  four  fingers  —  first  the  charge 
of  her  husband's  funeral,  next  debts  and  legacies,  and 
lastly  the  reversion ;"  now  take  away  debts  and  legacies, 
and  what  remains  for  her  second  husband  ?  64 

Nurse.   I  would  some  of  the  tribe  heard  you  ! 

Clown.  There's  a  certain  fish  that,  as  the  learned 
divulge,  is  called  a  shark :  now  this  fish  can  never  feed 
while  he  swims  upon's  belly ;  marry,  when  he  lies  upon 
his  back,  0,  he  takes  it  at  pleasure. 

Virginia.  Well,  sir,  about  your  business;  make  pro- 
vision 70 
Of  those  things  I  directed. 

Clown.  Sweet  lady,  these  eyes  shall  be  the  clerks  of 
the  kitchen  for  your  belly ;  but  I  can  assure  you,  wood- 
cocks will  be  hard  to  be  spoke  with,"  for  there's  a  great 
feast  towards. 

Virginia.   You  are  very  pleasant. 

Clown.  And  fresh  cod  is  taken  down  thick  and  three- 
fold ;°  women  without  great  bellies  go  together  by  the 
ears  for't  f  and  such  a  number  of  sweet-toothed  caters 
in  the  market,  not  a  calf's  head  to  be  got  for  love  or 
money ;   mutton's  mutton"  now.  Si 

Virginia.    Why,  was  it  not  so  ever? 

Clown.  No,  madam,  the  sinners  i'  th'  suburbs  had 
almost  ta'en  the  name  quite  away  from't,"  'twas  so  cheap 
and  common :  but  now  'tis  at  a  sweet  reckoning ;  the 
term  time  is  the  mutton-monger  in  the  whole  calendar." 

Nurse.  Do  your  lawyers  eat  any  salads  with  their 
mutton  ? 

Clown.   Yes,  the  younger  revellers  use  capers  to  their 


SCENE  iij  AI'PIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  293 

mutton  so  long,  till  with  their  shuffling  and  cutting 
some  of  them  be  out  at  heels  again.  A  bountiful  mind 
and  a  full  purse  ever  attend  your  ladyship.  92 

Virginia.   O,  I  thank  you. 

Enter  Marcus  and  Four  Lictors 

Marcus.   See,  yon's  the  lady. 

Clown.  I  will  buy  u[)  for  your  ladyship  all  the  young 
cuckoos"  in  the  market. 

Virginia.   What  to  do  ? 

Clown.  0,  'tis  the  most  delicatest  dish,  I'll  assure 
you,  and  newest  in  fashion :  not  a  great  feast  in  all 
Rome  without  a  cuckoo.  100 

Marcus.   Virginia. 

Virginia.  Sir. 

Marcus.  Mistress,  you  do  not  know  me, 

Yet  we  must  be  acquainted :  follow  me. 

Virginia.   You  do  salute  mc  strangely.     Follow  you  ! 

Clown.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  methinks  you  have  followers 
enough.  Many  gentlemen  that  I  know  would  not  have 
so  many  tall  followers "  as  you  have  for  the  price  of  ten 
hunting  geldings,  I'll  assure  you. 

Marcus.    Come,  will  you  go  ? 

Virginia.  Whither?     By  what  command ? 

Marcus.   By  warrant  of  these  men,  and  privilege 
I  hold  even  ojn  thy  life.     Come,  ye  proud  dame,  no 

You  are  not  what  you  seem. 

Virginia.  Uncivil  sir. 

What  makes  you  thus  familiar  and  thus  bold  ? 
Unhand  me,  villain  ! 

Marcus.  What,  mistress,  to  your  lord  ? 

He  that  can  set  the  razor  to  your  throat. 
And  punish  you  as  freely  as  the  gods, 
No  man  to  ask  the  cause  ?     Thou  art  my  slave, 
And  here  I  seize  what's  mine. 

Virginia.  Ignoble  villain ! 

I  am  as  free  as  the  best  king  or  consul 


294  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  [act  ill 

Since  Romulus.    What  dost  thou  mean  ?    Unhand  me  !  — 
Give  notice  to  my  uncle  and  Icilius,  120 

What  violence  is  offered  me.  [To  Corbulo. 

Marcus.    Do,  do. 

Clown.  Do  you  press  women  for  soldiers,  or  do  you 
beg  women,  instead  of  other  commodities,  to  keep  your 
hands  in  ure  ?  By  this  light,  if  thou  hast  any  ears  on 
thy  head,  as  it  is  a  question,  I'll  make  my  lord  pull  you 
out  by  th'  ears,  though  you  take  a  castle.  [Exit. 

Marcus.    Come,  will  you  go  along? 

Nurse.  Whither  should  she  go,  sir?  Here's  puUing 
and  haling  a  poor  gentlewoman  !  130 

Marcus.    Hold    you    your    prating;      reverence    the 
whip. 
Shall  seize  on  you  for  your  smooth  cozenage. "^ 

Virginia.   Are  not  you  servant  to  lord  Appius  ? 

Marcus.  Howe'er,"  I  am  your  lord,  and  will  approve  it 
'Fore  all  the  Senate. 

Virginia.  Thou  wilt  prove  thyself 

The  cursed  pander  for  another's  lust ; 
And  this  your  plot  shall  burst  about  your  ears 
Like  thunderbolts. 

Marcus.  Hold  you  that  confidence : 

First  I  will  seize  you  by  the  course  of  law, 
And  then  I'll  talk  with  you.  140 

Enter  Icilius  and  Numitorius 

Num.   How  now,  fair  cousin  ? 

Icil.  How  now,  gentlemen  ? 

What's  the  offence  of  fair  Virginia, 
You  bend  your  weapons  on  us  ? 

Lict.  Sir,  stand  back. 

We  fear  a  rescue. 

Tcil.  There's  no  need  of  fear, 

Where  there's  no  cause  of  rescue.     What's  the  matter? 

Virginia.   O  my  Icilius,  your  incredulity 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  295 

Hath  quite  undone  me  !     I  am  now  no  more 
Virginius's  daughter,  so  this  villain  urges, 
But  published  for  his  bondwoman. 

Num.  How's  this  ? 

Marcus.    'Tis  true,  my  lord,  150 

And  I  will  take  my  right  by  course  of  law. 

Icil.   Villains,  set  her  free. 
Or  by  the  power  of  all  our  Roman  gods, 
I'll  give  that  just  revenge  unto  my  rage 
Which  should  be  given  to  justice  !     Bondwoman  ! 

Marcus.    Sir,  we  do  not  come  to  fight,  we'll  deal 

Enter  Appius 

By  course  of  law.     My  lord,  we  fear  a  rescue. 

Appius.   A  rescue  !    never  fear't ;    here's  none  in  pre- 
sence 
But  civil  men.     My  lord,  I  am  glad  to  sec  you. 
Noble  Icilius,  we  shall  ever  love  you.  160 

Now,  gentlemen,  reach  your  petitions. 

Icil.   My  lord,  my  lord  — 

Appius.   Worthy  IciUus,  if  you  have  any  business 
Defer't  until  to-morrow,  or  the  afternoon : 
I  shall  be  proud  to  pleasure  you. 

Icil.     [Aside.]  The  fox 

Is  earthed,  my  lord,  you  cannot  wind  him  yet. 

Appius.   Stools  for  my  noble  friends.  —  I  pray  you  sit. 

Marcus.   May  it  please  your  lordship  — 

Appius.  Why,  uncivil  sir, 

Have  I  not  begged  forbearance  of  my  best 
And  dearest  friends,  and  must  you  trouble  me  ?  170 

Marcus.   My  lord,  I  must  be  heard,  and  will  be  heard : 
Were  all  the  gods  in  parliament,  I'd  burst 
Their  silence  ^vith  my  importunity, 
But  they  should  hear  me. 

Appius.  The  fellow's  mad  ! 

We  have  no  leisure  now  to  hear  you,  sir. 


296  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  [act  in 

Marcus.   Hast  now  no  leisure  to  hear  just  complaints  ? 
Resign  thy  place,  O  Appius,  that  some  other 
May  do  me  justice,  then  ! 

Appius.  We'll  hear't  to-morrow. 

Marcus.    O  my  lord. 
Deny  me  justice  absolutely,  rather  180 

Than  feed  me  with  delays. 

Icil.  Good  my  lord,  hear  him : 

And  wonder  when  you  hear  him,  that  a  case 
So  full  of  vile  imposture  should  desire 
To  be  unfolded.         , 

Marcus.  Aye,  my  lord,  'tis  true; 

[But]  the  imposture  is  on  their  parts. ° 

Appius.  Hold  your  prating : 

Away  with  him  to  prison,  clamorous  fellow  ! 
Suspect  you  our  uprightness  ? 

Marcus.  No,  my  lord : 

But  I  have  mighty  enemies,  my  lord, 
Will  overflow  my  cause.     See,  here  I  hold 
My  bondwoman,  that  brags  herself  to  be  19° 

Descended  of  a  noble  family. 
My  purse  is  too  scant  to  wage  law  with  them : 
I  am-enforced  be  mine  own  advocate. 
Not  one  will  plead  for  me.     Now  if  your  lordship 
Will  do  me  justice,  so ;  if  not,  then  know 
High  liills  are  safe,  when  seas  poor  dales  o'erflow. 

Appius.    Sirrah,  I  think  it  fit  to  let  you  know, 
Ere  you  proceed  in  this  your  subtle  suit. 
What  penalty  and  danger  you  accrue, 
If  you  be  found  to  double.      Here's  a  virgin  200 

Famous  by  birth,  by  education  noble ; 
And  she,  forsooth,  haply  but  to  draw 
Some  piece  of  money  from  her  worthy  father, 
Must  needs  be  challenged  for  a  bondwoman. 
Sirrah,  take  heed,  and  well  bethink  yourself ; 
I'll  make  you  a  precedent  to  all  the  world, 
If  I  but  find  you  tripping. 


SCENi:  II]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  297 

Marcus.  Do  it  freely  : 

And  view  on  that  condition  these  just  proofs." 

Appius.   Is  that  the  virgin's  nurse  ?  209 

Nurse.  Her  milch  nurse,  my  lord :  I  had  a  sore  hand 
with  her  for  a  year  and  a  quarter :  I  have  had  some- 
what to  do  with  her  since,  too,  for  the  poor  gentle- 
woman hath  been  so  troubled  with  the  green  sickness. 

Icil.   I  pray  thee,  Nurse,  entreat  Sertorius 
To  come  and  speak  with  mc.  [Exit  Nurse. 

Appius.   Here  is  strange  circumstance;    view  it,  my 
lord :  » 

If  he  should  prove  this,  it  would  make  Virginius 
Think  he  were  wronged. 

Icil.  There  is  a  devilish  cunning 

Expressed  in  this  black  forgery. 

Appius.   Icilius  and  yirginia,  pray  come  near;  220 

Compound  with  this  base  fellow.     You  were  better 
Disburse  some  trifle,  than  to  undergo 
The  question  of  her  freedom. 

Icil.  0  my  lord, 

She  were  not  worth  a  handful  of  a  bribe. 
If  she  did  need  a  bribe  ! 

A  ppius.  Nay,  take  your  course ; 

I  only  give  you  my  opinion, 
I  ask  no  fee  for't.     Do  you  know  this  fellow  ? 

Virginia.    Yes,  my  lord  ;  he's  your  servant. 

Appius.  You're  i'  th'  right: 

But  will  you  truly  know  his  character  ? 
He  was  at  first  a  petty  notary ;  23° 

A  fellow  that,  being  trusted  with  large  sums 
Of  honest  citizens,  to  be  employed 
I'  th'  trade  of  usury,  this  gentleman. 
Couching  his  credit  like  a  tilting-staff, 
IMost  cunningly  it  brake,  and  at  one  course 
He  ran  away  with  thirty  thousand  pound. 
Returning  to  the  city  seven  year  after, 
Having  compounded  with  his  creditors 


298  APPIUS    AND   VIRGINIA  [act  ill 

For  the  third  moiety,  he  buys  an  office 

Belonging  to  our  place,  depends  on  us ;  240 

In  which  the  oppression  and  vile  injuries 

He  hath  done  poor  suitors,  they  have  cause  to  rue, 

And  I  to  pity :  he  hath  sold  his  smiles 

For  silver,  but  his  promises  for  gold ; 

His  delays  have  undone  men. 

The  plague  that  in  some  folded  cloud  remains, 

The  bright  sun  soon  disperseth ;  but  observe, 

When  black  infection  in  some  dunghill  lies. 

There's  work  for  beils  and  graves,  if  it  do  rise. 

Num.     He   was   an   ill    prop    to    your    house,    my 
lord.  250 

Appius.    'Tis  true,  my  lord;    but  we  that  have  such 
servants. 
Are  like  to  cuckolds  that  have  rigtous  wives ; 
We  are  the  last  that  know  it :  this  is  it 
Makes  noblemen  suspected  to  have  done  ill, 
When  the  oppression  lies  in  their  proud  followers. 

Marcus.    My  lord,  it  was  some  soothing  sycophant, 
Some  base  detracting  rascal,  that  hath  spread 
This  falsehood  in  your  ears. 

Appius.  Peace,  impudence ! 

Did  I  not  yesterday,  no  longer  since. 
Surprise  thee  in  thy  study  counterfeiting  260 

Our  hand  ? 

Marcus.     'Tis  true,  my  lord. 

Appius.  Being  subscribed 

Unto  a  letter  filled  with  amorous  stuff 
Unto  this  lady  ? 

Marcus.  I  have  asked  your  pardon, 

And  gave  you  reason  why  I  was  so  bold 
To  use  that  forgery. 

Appius.  Did  you  receive  it  ? 

Virginia.    I  did,  my  lord,  and  I  can  show  your  lordship 
A  packet  of  such  letters. 

Appius.  Now,  by  the  gods. 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS    AND    VIRC^.INIA  299 

I'll  make  you  rue  it !     I  beseech  you,  sir, 
Show  them  the  reason  mo\'C(l  you  counterfeit 
Our  letter. 

Enter  Sertorius 

Marcus.  Sir,  I  had  no  other  colour  270 

To  come  to  speak  with  her. 

A  p plus.  A  goodly  reason  ! 

Did  you  until  this  hour  acquaint  the  lady 
With  your  intended  suit  ? 

Marcus.  At  several  times, 

And  would  have  drawn  her  by  some  private  course 
To  have  compounded  for  her  liberty. 

Virginia.    Now,  by  a  virgin's  honour  and  true  birth, 
'Tis  false,  my  lord  !    I  never  had  a  dream 
So  terrible  as  is  this  monstrous  devil. 

Appius.   Well,  sir,  referring  my  particular  wrong 
To  a  particular  censure,"  I  would  know  280 

What  is  your  suit  ? 

Marcus.  My  lord,  a  speedy  trial. 

Appius.   You  shall  obtain't  with  all  severity: 
I  will  not  give  you  longer  time  to  dream 
Upon  new  sleights  to  cloak  your  forgery. 
Observe  you  this  chameleon,  my  lords, 
I'll  make  him  change  his  colour  presently. 

Num.    My  lord,  although  th'  uprightness  of  our  cause 
Needs  no  delays,  yet  for  the  satisfaction 
Of  old  Virginius,  let  hdm  be  present 
When  we  shall  crave  a  trial. 

Appius.  Sir,  it  needs  not :  200 

Who  stands  for  father  of  the  innocent, 
If  not  the  judge  ?     I'll  save  the  poor  old  man 
That  needless  travel. 

Virginia.  With  your  favour,  sir, 

We  must  entreat  some  respite  in  a  business 
So  needful  of  his  presence. 

Appius.  I  do  protest 


300  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  [act  hi 

You  wrong  yourselves  thus  to  importune  it. 
Well,  let  it  be  to-morrow ;  I'll  not  sleep 
Till  I  have  made  this  thicket  a  smooth  plain, 
And  given  you  your  true  honour  back  again. 

Icil.    My  lord,  the  distance  'twixt  the  camp  and  us   300 
Cannot  be  measured  in  so  short  a  time : 
Let  us  have  four  days'  respite. 

A  p phis.  You  are  unwise ; 

Rumour  by  that  time  will  have  fully  spread 
The  scandal,  which  being  ended  in  one  hour 
Will  turn  to  air :  to-morrow  is  the  trial ; 
In  the  meantime  let  all  contented  thoughts 
Attend  you. 

Marcus.        My  lord,  you  deal  unjustly 
Thus  to  dismiss  her ;  this  is  that  they  seek  for : 
Before  to-morrow  they'll  convey  her  hence, 
Where  my  claim  shall  not  seize  her. 

Appius.  Cunning  knave ! 

You  would  have  bond  for  her  appearance  ?  say  ?  311 

Marcus.   I  think  the  motion's  honest. 

Appius.  Very  good. 

Icilius  shall  engage  his  honoured  word 
For  her  appearance. 

Marcus.  As  you  please,  my  lord ; 

But  it  were  fitting  her  old  uncle  there 
Were  jointly  bound  with  him. 

Appius.  Well,  sir,  your  pleasure 

Shall  have  satiety.     You'll  take  our  word 
For  her  appearance ;  will  you  not,  sir,  I  pray? 

Marcus.   Most  wiUingly,  my  lord. 

Appius.  Then,  sir,  you  have  it : 

And  i'  th'  meantime,  I'll  take  the  honoured  lady  32° 

Into  my  guardianship  ;  and,  by  my  life, 
I'll  use  her  in  all  kindness  as  my  wife. 

Icil.   Now,  by  the  gods,  you  shall  not ! 

Appius.  Shall  not,  what? 

Icil.   Not  use  her  as  your  wife,  sir. 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS   AiND   VIRGINIA  3OI 

Appius.  O,  my  lord, 

I  spake  it  from  my  heart. 

Icil.  Aye,  very  likely. 

She  is  a  virgin,  sir,  and  must  not  he 
Under  a  man's  forthcoming ;  "*  do  you  mark  ?  — 
[Aside.]  Not  under  your  forthcoming,  lecherous  Appius. 

Appius.    Mistake    me    not,   my    lord.      Our    secre- 
tary, 
Take  bonds  for  the  appearance  of  this  lady.  330 

And  now  to  you,  sir ;  you  that  were  my  servant, 
I  here  cashier  you ;  never  shalt  thou  shroud 
Thy  villainies  under  our  noble  roof. 
Nor  scape  the  wliip,  or  the  fell  hangman's  hook, 
By  warrant  of  our  favour. 

Marcus.  So,  my  lord, 

I  am  more  free  to  serve  the  gods,  I  hope, 
Now  I  have  lost  your  service. 

Appius.  Hark  you,  sirrah. 

Who  shall  give  bonds  for  your  appearance,  ha  ! 
To  justify  your  claim  ? 

Marcus.  I  have  none,  my  lord. 

Appius.   Away  !    commit  him  prisoner  to  his  cham- 
ber :  340 
I'll  keep  you  safe  from  starting." 

Marcus.  Why,  my  lord  — 

A  ppius.   Away,  I  will  not  hear  you  ; 
A  judge's  heart  here  in  the  midst  must  stand. 
And  move  not  a  hair's  breadth  to  either  hand. 

[Exit  with  Marcus. 

Num.   O,  were  thy  heart  but  of  the  selfsame  piece 
Thy  tongue  is,  Appius,  how  blessed  were  Rome  ! 

Icil.    Post  to  the  camp,  Sertorius ;  thou  hast  heard 
Th'  effect  of  all,  relate  it  to  Virginius. 
I  pray  thee  use  thy  ablest  horsemanship, 
For  it  concerns  us  near. 

Sert.  I  go,  my  lord.         [Exit.        350 

Icil.   Sure  all  this  is  damned  cunning. 


302  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iii 

Virginia.  O  my  lord, 

Seamen  in  tempests  shun  the  flattering  shore ; 
To  bear  full  sails  upon't  were  danger  more : 
So  men  o'erborne  with  greatness  still  hold  dread  "* 
False  seeming  friends  that  on  their  bosoms  spread : 
For  this  is  a  safe  truth  which  never  varies, 
He  that  strikes  all  his  sails  seldom  miscarries. 

Icil.   Must  we  be  slaves  both  to  a  tyrant's  will, 
And  confounding  ignorance,"  at  once  ? 
Where  are  we  ?   in  a  mist,  or  is  this  hell  ?  360 

I  have  seen  as  great  as  the  proud  judge  have  fell. 
The  bending  willow  yielding  to  each  wind, 
Shall  keep  his  rooting  firm,  when  the  proud  oak, 
Braving  the  storm,  presuming  on  his  root. 
Shall  have  his  body  rent  from  head  to  foot. 
Let  us  expect  the  worst  that  may  befall, 
And  with  a  noble  confidence  bear  all.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III° 
Enter  Appius,  Marcus,  and  a  Servant 

Appius.   Here,  bear  this  packet  to  Minutius, 
And  privately  deliver't-:  make  as  much  speed 
As  if  thy  father  were  deceased  i'  th'  camp. 
And  that  thou  went'st  to  take  th'  administration 
Of  what  he  left  thee.     Fly  ! 

Serv.  I  go,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Appius.   O  my  trusty  Claudius  ! 

Marcus.  My  dear  lord, 

Let  me  adore  your  divine  policy. 
You  have  poisoned  them  with  sweetmeats ;  you  have, 

my  lord. 
But  what  contain  those  letters? 

Appius.   ^  Much  importance, 

Minutius  is  commanded  by  that  packet  10 


SCENK  IV]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  303 

To  hold  Virginius  prisoner  in  the  camp 
On  some  suspect  of  treason. 

Marcus.  But,  my  lord, 

How  will  you  answer  this? 

Appius.  Tush,  any  fault 

Or  shadow  of  a  crime  will  be  sufficient 
For  his  committing  :  thus,  when  he  is  absent, 
We  shall  in  a  more  calm  and  friendly  sea 
Sail  to  our  purpose. 

Marcus.  Mercury  himself 

Could  not  direct  more  safely. 

Appius.  O  my  Claudius, 

Observe  this  rule ;  one  ill  must  cure  another ; 
As  aconitum,  a  strong  poison,  brings  20 

A  present  cure  against  all  serpents'  stings. 
In  high  attempts  the  soul  hath  infinite  e)'es,° 
And  'tis  necessity  makes  men  most  wise. 
Should  I  miscarry  in  this  desperate  plot. 
This  of  my  fate  in  aftertimes  be  spoken, 
I'll  break  that  with  my  weight  on  which  I'm  broken. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV  ° 

Enter  Two  Servingmen  at  one  door,  at  the  other  the  Clown, 
melancholy 

First  Serv.  Why,  how  now,  Corbulo?  thou  wast  not 
wont  to  be  of  this  sad  temper.     What's  the  matter  now  ? 

Clown.   Times  change,  and  seasons  alter, 
Some  men  are  born  to  the  bench,  and  some  to  the  halter. 
What  do  you  think  now  that  I  am  ? 

First  Serv.  I  think  thee  to  be  Virginia's  man,  and 
Corbulo. 

Clown.  No,  no  such  matter  :  guess  again  :  tell  me  but 
what  I  am,  or  what  manner  of  fellow  you  imagine  me  to 
be.  10 


304  APPIUS  AND   VIRGINIA  [act  in 

First  Serv.   I  take  thee  to  be  an  honest  good  fellow. 

Clown.  Wide  of  the  bow-hand  °  still :  Corbulo  is  no 
such  man. 

Secotid  Serv.   What  art  thou,  then  ? 

Clown.  Listen,  and  I'll  describe  myself  to  you :  I  am 
something  better  than  a  knave,  and  yet  come  short  of 
being  an  honest  man ;  -and  though  I  can  sing  a  treble,  yet 
am  accounted  but  as  one  of  the  base,  being  indeed,  and 
as  the  case  stands  with  me  at  this  present,  inferior  to  a 
rogue,  and  three  degrees  worse  than  a  rascal.  20 

First  Serv.   How  comes  this  to  pass  ? 

Clown.  Only  by  my  service's  success.  Take  heed 
whom  you  serve,  O  you  serving  creatures  !  for  this  is 
all  I  have  got  by  serving  my  lady  Virginia. 

Second  Serv.   Why,  what  of  her  ? 

Clown.  She  is  not  the  woman  you  take  her  to  be ;  for 
though  she  have  borrowed  no  money,  yet  she  is  entered 
into  bonds ;  and  though  you  may  think  her  a  woman  not 
sufficient,  yet  'tis  very  like  her  bond  will  be  taken.  The 
truth  is,  she  is  challenged  to  be  a  bondwoman;  now  if 
she  be  a  bondwoman  and  a  slave,  and  I  her  servant  and 
vassal,  what  did  you  take  me  to  be  ?  I  am  an  ant,  a  gnat, 
a  worm ;  a  woodcock  amongst  birds ;  a  hodmondod 
amongst  ilies ;  amongst  curs  a  trendle-tail"  and  amongst 
fishes  a  poor  iper ;  but  amongst  servingmen  worse, 
worse  than  the  man's  man  to  the  under  yeomen-fewterer. 

First  Serv.  But  is  it  possible  thy  lady  is  challenged  to 
be  a  slave  ?     What  witness  have  they  ?  38 

Clown.  Witness  these  fountains,  these  flood-gates, 
these  well-springs  !  The  poor  gentlewoman  was  arrested 
in  the  open  market ;  I  offered,  I  offered  to  bail  her ;  but 
(though  she  was)  I  could  not  be  taken.  The  grief  hath 
gone  so  near  my  heart,  that  until  I  be  made  free,  I 
shall  never  be  mine  own  man.  The  lord  Appius  hath 
committed  her  to  ward,  and  it  is  thought  she  shall  neither 
lie  on  the  knight  side,  nor  in  the  twopenny  ward ; "  for 
if  he  may  have  his  will  of  her,  he  means  to  put  her  in  the 


SCKNE  IV]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  305 

hole."  His  warrant  hath  been  out  for  her ;  but  how  the 
case  stands  with  him,  or  how  matters  will  be  taken  up 
with  her,  'tis  yet  uncertain.  50 

Second  Serv.   When  shall  the  trial  be  ? 

Clown.  I  take  it  to  be  as  soon  as  the  morning  is  brought 
a-bed  of  a  new  son  and  heir. 

Second  Serv.   And  when  is  that  ? 

Clown.  Why,  to-morrow;  for  every  morning,  you 
know,  brings  forth  a  new  sun;  but  they  are  all  short- 
lived, for  every  night  she  drowns  them  in  the  western 
sea.  But  to  leave  these  enigmas,  as  too  high  for  your 
dull  apprehensions:  shall  I  see  you  at  the  trial  to- 
morrow ?  60 

First  Serv.   By  Jove's  help,  I'll  be  there. 

Second  Serv.   And  I,  if  I  live. 

Clown.  And  I,  if  I  die  for't :  here's  my  hand,  I'll  meet 
you.  It  is  thought  that  my  old  master  will  be  there  at 
the  bar ;  for  though  all  the  timber  of  his  house  yet  stand, 
yet  my  lord  Numitorius  hath  sent  one  of  his  posts  to 
the  camp  to  bid  him  spur,  cut,  and  come  to  the  sentence. 
O,  we  have  a  house  at  home  as  heavy  as  if  it  were  covered 
with  lead  !     But  you  will  remember  to  be  there. 

First  Serv.   And  not  to  fail.  7° 

Clown.  If  I  chance  to  meet  you  there,  and  that  the 
case  go  against  us,  I  will  give  you  a  quart,  not  of  wine, 
but  of  tears ;  for  instead  of  a  new  roll,  I  purpose  to  break 
my  fast  with  sops  of  sorrow.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   FOURTH 

Scene  I° 

Enter  ViRGiNius,  like  a  slave;  Numitorius,  Icilius, 
Valerius,  Horatius,  Virginia,  like  a  slave;  Julia, 
Calphurnia,  and  Nurse 

Virginius.   Thanks    to    my    noble    friends:     it    now 
appears 
That  you  have  rather  loved  me  than  my  fortune. 
For  that's  near  shipwrecked :  chance,  you  see,  still  ranges, 
And  this  short  dance  of  life  is  full  of  changes. 
Appius  —  how  hollow  that  name  sounds,  how  dreadful ! 
It  is  a  question  whether  the  proud  lecher 
Will  view  us  to  our  merit ;   for  they  say, 
His  memory  to  virtue  and  good  men 
Is  still  carousing  Lethe."     O  the  gods  ! 
Not  with  more  terror  do  the  souls  in  hell  lo 

Appear  before  the  seat  of  Rhadamant,'' 
Than  the  poor  client  yonder. 

Num.  O  Virginius; 

Why  do  you  wear  this  habit  ?   it  ill  fits 
Your  noble  person,  or  this  reverend  place. 

Virginius.   That's  true,  old  man ;    but  it  well  fits  the 
case 
That's  now  in  cjuestion.     If  with  form  and  show 
They  prove  her  slaved,  all  freedom  I'll  forego. 

Icil.   Noble  Virginius, 
Put  out  a  bold  and  confident  defence ; 
Search  the  imposture,  like  a  cunning  trier;  20 

False  metals  bear  the  touch,  but  brook  not  fire, 
Their  brittleness  betrays  them  :  let  your  breath 
Discover  as  much  shame  in  them,  as  death 

306 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  307 

Did  ever  draw  from  offenders :  let  your  truth 
Nobly  supported,  void  of  fear  or  art, 
Welcome  whatever  comes  with  a  great  heart. 

Virginius.   Now,  by  the  gods,  I  thank  thee,  noble 
youth  ! 
I  never  feared  in  a  besieged  town 
Mines  or  great  engines  like  yon  lawyer's  gown. 

Virginia.   0  my  dear  lord  and  father !  once  you  gave 
me  30 

A  noble  freedom,  do  not  see  it  lost 
Without  a  forfeit ;   take  the  life  you  gave  me, 
And  sacrifice  it  rather  to  the  gods 
Than  to  a  villain's  lust.     Happy  the  wretch 
Who,  born  in  bondage,  lives  and  dies  a  slave, 
And  sees  no  lustful  projects  bent  upon  her, 
And  neither  knows  the  life  nor  death  of  honour. 

Icil.   We  have  neither  justice,  no,  nor  violence, 
Which  should  reform  corruption  sufficient 
To  cross  their  black  premeditated  doom.''  4° 

Appius  will  seize  her ;  all  the  fire  in  hell 
Is  leaped  into  his  bosom. 

Virginius.  O  you  gods. 

Extinguish  it  with  your  compassionate  tears, 
Although  you  make  a  second  deluge  spread, 
And  swell  more  high  than  Teneriff's  high  head  ! 
Have  not  the  wars  heaped  snow  sufficient 
Upon  this  aged  head,  but  they  will  still 
Pile  \\dnter  upon  winter  ? 

Enter  Appius,  Oppius,  Marcus,  Six  Senators,  Advocate, 
and  Lictors 

Appius.  Is  he  come  !  say? 

Now,  by  my  life,  I'll  quit  the  general. 

Num.   Your  reverence  to  the  judge,  good  brother.     50 
Virginius.    Yes,   sir,   I   have   learnt   my   compliment 
thus: 


308  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

Blessed  mean  estates  who  stand  in  fear  of  many, 
And  great  are  cursed  for  that  they  fear  not  any. 

Appius.   What,  is  Virginius  come  ? 

Virginius.  I  am  here,  my  lord. 

Appius.   Where  is  your  daughter  ? 

Nmn.  Here,  my  reverend  lord. 

Your  habit  shows  you  strangely." 

Virginia.  O,  'tis  fit ; 

It  suits  both  time  and  cause.     Pray  pardon  it. 

Appius.    Where  is  your  advocate  ? 

Virginius.  I  have  none,  my  lord ; 

Truth  needs  no  advocate  :  the  unjust  cause 
Buys  up  the  tongues  that  travel  with  applause  60 

In  these  your  thronged  courts :  I  want  not  any, 
And  count  him  the  most  wretched  that  needs  many. 

Adv.    May  it  please  your  reverend  lordships  — 

Appius.  What  are  you,  sir? 

Adv.   Of  counsel  with  my  client,  Marcus  Claudius. 

Virginius.    My  lord,  I  undertake  a  desperate  combat 
To  cope  with  this  most  eloquent  lawyer : 
I  have  no  skill  i'  th'  weapon,  good  my  lord : 
I  mean  I  am  not  travelled  in  your  laws  : 
My  suit  is  therefore,  by  your  special  goodness, 
They  be  not  wrested  against  me.''  70 

Appius.   O  Virginius,  the  gods  defend  they  should  ! 

Virginius.  Your  humble  servant  shall  ever  pray  for  you. 
Thus  shall  your  glory  be  above  your  place. 
Or  those  high  titles  which  you  hold  in  court ; 
For  they  die  blessed  that  die  in  good  report. 
Now,  sir,  I  stand  you." 

Adv.  Then  have  at  you,  sir. 

May  it  please  your  lordships,  here  is  such  a  case, 
So  full  of  subtlety,  and,  as  it  were. 
So  far  benighted  in  an  ignorant  mist. 
That  though  my  reading  be  sufiicient,  80 

My  practice  ijiore,  I  never  was  entangled 
In  the  like  purse-net.     Here  is  one  that  claims 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  309 

This  woman  for  his  daughter  :  here's  another 
Affirms  she  is  his  bondslave  :  now  the  question 
(With  favour  of  the  bench)  I  shall  make  plain 
In  two  words  only  without  circumstance. 

Appius.    Fall  to  your  proofs. 

Adv.  Where  are  our  papers? 

Marcus.  Here,  sir. 

Adv.   Where,    sir?     I    vow  y'are    the    most    tedious 
client.  — 
Now  we  come  to't,  my  lord.     Thus  stands  the  case, 
The  law  is  clear  on  our  sides.      [To  Marcus.]     Hold 
your  prating.  90 

That  honourable  lord  Virginius, 
Having  been  married  about  fifteen  year. 
And  issueless,  this  virgin's  politic  mother. 
Seeing  the  land  was  likely  to  descend 
To  Numitorius  —  I  pray,  sir,  listen  ; 
You,  my  lord  Numitorius,  attend ; 
We  are  on  your  side  —  old  Virginius, 
Employed  in  foreign  wars,  she  sends  him  word 
She  was  with  child  —  observe  it,  I  beseech  you. 
And  note  the  trick  of  a  deceitful  woman  :  100 

She  in  the  meantime  feigns  the  passions 
Of  a  great-bellied  woman ;   counterfeits 
Their  passions  and  their  qualms ;  and  verily 
All  Rome  held  this  for  no  imposturous  stuff : 
What's  to  be  done  now  ?     Here's  a  rumour  spread 
Of  a  young  heir,  gods  bless  it !  and  belly 
Bumbasted  with  a  cushion  :  but  there  wants, 
(What  wants  there  ?)  nothing  but  a  pretty  babe, 
Bought  with   some  piece  of   money  ^ — where  —  it   skills 

not, 
To  furnish  this  supposed  lying-in.  no 

Nurse.   I  protest,  my  lord,  the  fellow  i'  th'  night-cap" 
Hath  not  spoke  one  true  word  yet. 

Appius.   Hold  you  your  prating,  woman,  till  you  are 
called. 


310  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

Adv.   'Tis    purchased.     Where?     From    this    man's 
bondwoman. 
The  money  paid.     [To  Marcus.]   What  was  the  sum 
of  money  ? 

Marcus.   A  thousand  drachmas. 

Adv.  Good ;  a  thousand  drachmas. 

Appius.   Where  is  that  bondwoman  ? 

Marcus.  She's  dead,  my  lord. 

Appius.   O,  dead;    that  makes  your  cause  suspicious. 

Adv.    But  here's  her  deposition  on  her  death-bed, 
With  other  testimony  to  confirm  120 

What  we  have  said  is  true.     Will't  please   your  lord- 
ship 
Take  pains  to  view  these  writings  ?     Here,  my  lord ; 
We  shall  not  need  to  hold  your  lordships  long, 
We'll  make  short  work  on't. 

Virginius.  My  lord  — 

Appius.  By  your  favour.  — 

If  that  your  claim  be  just,  how  happens  it 
That  you  have  discontinued  it  the  space 
Of  fourteen  years  ? 

Adv.  I  shall  resolve  your  lordship. 

Icil.   I  vow  this  is  a  practised  dialogue : 
Comes  it  not  rarely  off  ? 

Virginia.  Peace ;  give  them  leave. 

Adv.    'Tis  very  true  :   this  gentleman"  at  first  130 

Thought  to  conceal  this  accident,  and  did  so ; 
Only  revealed  his  knowledge  to  the  mother 
Of  this  fair  bondwoman,  who  bought  his  silence. 
During  her  lifetime,  with  great  sums  of  coin. 

Appius.   Where  are  your  proofs  of  that  ? 

Adv.   Here,  my  good  lord,  with  depositions  likewise. 

Appius.   Well,  go  on. 

Adv.  For  your  question 

Of  discontinuance  :  put  case  my  slave 
Run  away  from  mc,  dwell  in  some  near  city 
The  space  of  twenty  years,  and  there  grow  rich,  mo 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  31I 

It  is  in  my  discretion,  by  your  favour, 
To  seize  him  when  I  please. 

A  p plus.  That's  very  true. 

Virglnius.   Cast  not  your  noble  beams,"  you  reverend 
judges. 
On  such  a  putrified  dunghill. 

A  ppius.   By  your  favour :  you  shall  be  heard  anon. 

Virginius.   My  lords,  believe  not  this  spruce  orator : 
Had  I  but  feed  him  first,  he  would  have  told 
As  smooth  a  tale  on  our  side. 

A  ppius.  Give  us  leave. 

Virginius.   He  deals  in  formal  glosses,  cunning  shows. 
And  cares  not  greatly  which  way  the  case  goes.  150 

Examine,  I  beseech  you,  this  old  woman, 
Who  is  the  truest  witness  of  her  birth. 

A  ppius.    Soft  you;  is  she  your  only  witness  ? 

Virginius.   She  is,  my  lord. 

A  ppius.  Why,  is  it  possible 

Such  a  great  lady,  in  her  time  of  childbirth, 
Should  have  no  other  witness  but  a  nurse  ? 

Virginius.    For  aught  I  know  the  rest  are  dead,  my 
lord. 

A  ppius.   Dead?    no,   my   lord,   beUke   they   were   of 
counsel 
With  your  deceased  lady,  and  so"  shamed 
Twice  to  give  colour  to  so  vile  an  act.  160 

Thou,  nurse,  observe  me  ;  thy  offence  already 
Doth  merit  punishment  beyond  our  censure ; 
Pull  not  more  whips  upon  thee. 

Nurse.   I  defy  your  whips,  my  lord. 

Appius.  Command  her  silence,  Lictors. 

Virginius.   O,  injustice  !  you  frown  away  my  witness  ! 
Is  this  law  ?  is  this  uprightness  ? 

Appius.  Have  you  viewed  the  writings? 
This  is  a  trick  to  make  our  slaves  our  heirs 
Beyond  prevention. 

Virginius.  Appius,  wilt  thou  hear  me  ? 


312  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

You  have  slandered  a  sweet  lady  that  now  sleeps  170 

In  a  most  noble  monument.     Observe  me : 
I  would  have  ta'en  her  simple  word  to  gage 
Before  his  soul  or  thine. 

Appius.  That  makes  thee  wretched. 

Old  man,  I  am  sorry  for  thee  that  thy  love 
By  custom  is  grown  natural,  which  by  nature 
Shoiild  be  an  absolute  loathing :  note  the  sparrow, 
That  having  hatched  a  cuckoo,  when  it  sees 
Her  brood  a  monster  to  her  proper  kind, 
Forsakes  it,  and  with  more  fear  shuns  the  nest, 
Than  she  had  care  i'  th'  spring  to  have  it  dressed,        180 
Cast  thy  affection,  then,  behind  thy  back, 
And  think  — 

Adv.  Be  wise ;  take  counsel  of  your  friends. 

You  have  many  soldiers  in  their  time  of  service 
Father  strange  children. 

Virginius.  True ;  and  pleaders,  too. 

When  they  are  sent  to  visit  provinces. 
You,  my  most  neat  and  cunning  orator. 
Whose  tongue  is  quicksilver,  pray  thee,  good  Janus, 
Look  not  so  many  several  ways  at  once. 
But  go  to  th'  point. 

Adv.  I  will,  and  keep  you  out 

At  point's  end,"^  though  I  am  no  soldier.  190 

Appius.   First  the  oath  of  the  deceased  bondwoman. 

Adv.   A  very  virtuous  matron. 

Appius.   Joined  with  the  testimony  of  Claudius. 

Adv.   A  most  approved  honest  gentleman. 

Appius.   Besides  six  other  honest  gentlemen. 

Adv.   All  knights,  and  there's  no  question  but  their 
oaths 
Will  go  for  current. 

Appius.  See,  my  reverend  lords. 

And  wonder  at  a  case  so  evident. 

Virginius.  My  lord,  I  knew  it. 

Adv.   Observe,  my  lord,  how  their  own  poUcy 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  313 

Confounds  them.     Had  your  lordship  yesterday  200 

Proceeded,  as  'twas  fit,  to  a  just  sentence. 

The  apparel  and  the  jewels  that  she  wore, 

More  worth  than  all  her  tribe,  had  then  been  due 

Unto  our  client :  now,  to  cozen  him 

Of  such  a  forfeit,  see  they  bring  the  maid 

In  her  most  proper  habit,  bondslave  like. 

And   they  will  save    by  th'    hand "   too.      Please  your 

lordships, 
I  crave  a  sentence. 

Virginius.  Appius ! 

Virginia.  My  lord! 

I  oil.   Lord  Appius! 

Virginius.  Now,  by  the  gods,  here's  juggling  ! 

Num.   Who  cannot  counterfeit  a  dead  man's  hand  ?    21-? 

Virginius.   Or  hire  some  villains  to  swear  forgeries  ? 

Icil.    Claudius  was  brought  up  in  your  house,  my  lord, 
And  that's  suspicious. 

Num.  How  is't  probable, 

That  our  wife  being  present  at  the  childbirth, 
Whom  this  did  nearest  concern,  should  ne'er  reveal  it  ? 

Virginius.   Or  if  ours  dealt  thus  cunningly,  how  haps 
it 
Her  policy,  as  you  term  it,  did  not  rather 
Provide  an  issue  male  to  cheer  the  father  ? 

Adv.   I'll  answer  each  particular. 

Appius.  It  needs  not ; 

Here's  witness,  most  sufficient  witness.  220 

Think  you,  my  lord,  our  laws  are  writ  in  snow, 
And  that  your  breath  can  melt  them  ? 

Virginius.  No,  my  lord. 

We  have  not  such  hot  livers :°    mark  you  that. 

Virginia.   Remember  yet  the  gods,  O  Appius, 
Who  have  no  part  in  this  !     Thy  violent  lust 
Shall,  like  the  biting  of  the  envenomed  aspic. 
Steal  thee  to  hell.     So  subtle  are  thy  evils, 
In  Ufe  they'll  seem  good  angels,  in  death  devils. 


314  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

Appius.   Observe  you  not  this  scandal  ? 

Icil.  Sir,  'tis  none. 

I'll  show  thy  letters  full  of  violent  lust  230 

Sent  to  this  lady. 

Appius.  Wilt  thou  breathe  a  lie 

'Fore  such  a  reverend  audience  ? 

Icil.  That  place 

Is  sanctuary  to  thee.     Lie  !  see  here  they  are. 

Appius.   My  lords,  these  are  but  dilatory  shifts. 
Sirrah,  I  know  you  to  the  very  heart, 
And  I'll  observe  you. 

Icil.  Do,  but  do  it  with  justice. 

Clear  thyself  first,  O  Appius,  ere  thou  judge 
Our  imperfections  rashly  ;   for  we  wot 
The  office  of  a  justice  is  perverted  quite. 
When  one  thief  hangs  another. 

First  Sen.  You  are  too  bold.       240 

Appius.   Lictors,  take  charge  of  him. 

[They  seize  Icilius. 

Icil.  'Tis  very  good. 

Will  no  man  view  these  papers  ?     What,  not  one  ? 
Jove,  thou  hast  found  a  rival  upon  earth. 
His  nod  strikes  all  men  dumb.     My  duty  to  you. 
The  ass  that  carried  Isis  on  his  back. 
Thought  that  the  superstitious  people  kneeled 
To  give  his  dullness  humble  reverence : 
If  thou  thinkest  so,  proud  judge,  I  let  thee  see 
I  bend  low  to  thy  gown,  but  not  to  thee. 

Virginius.   There's  one  in  hold  already.     Noble  youth. 
Fetters  grace  one  being  worn  for  speaking  truth :  251 

I'll  lie  with  thee,  I  swear,  though  in  a  dungeon. 
[To  Appius.]  The  injuries  you  do  us  we  shall  pardon, 
But  it  is  just  the  wrongs  which  we  forgive. 
The  gods  arc  charged  therewith  to  see  revenged. 

Appius.    Come,  y'  are  a  proud  plebeian." 

Virginius.  True,  my  lord : 

Proud  in  the  glory  of  my  ancestors,  . 


SCENE  I]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  315 

Who  have  continued  these  eight  hundred  years : 
The  heralds  have  not  known  you  these  eight  months. 

A p pins.   Your  madness  wrongs  you ;    by  my  soul,  I 
love  you.  260 

Virginius.   Thy  soul ! 
0,  thy  opinion,  old  Pythagoras  !  ° 
Whither,  O  whither  should  thy  black  soul  fly  ? 
Into  what  ravenous  bird,  or  beast  most  vile  ? 
Only  into  a  weeping  crocodile. 
Love  me  !    Thou  lov'st  me,  Appius,  as  the  earth  loves 

rain, 
Thou  fain  wouldst  swallow  me. 

Appius.   Know  you  the  place  you  speak  in? 

Virginius.  I'll  speak  freely. 

Good  men  too  much  trusting  their  innocence 
Do  not  betake  them  to  that  just  defence  270 

Which  gods  and  nature  gave  them ;   but  even  wink 
In  the  black  tempest,  and  so  fondly  sink. 

Appius.   Let  us  proceed  to  sentence. 

Virginius.  Ere  you  speak, 

One  parting  farewell  let  me  borrow  of  you 
To  take  of  my  Virginia. 

Appius.  Now,  my  lords, 

We  shall  have  fair  confession  of  the  truth. 
Pray  take  your  course. 

Virginius.   Farewell,  my  sweet  Virginia ;  never,  never, 
Shall  I  taste  fruit  of  the  most  blessed  hope 
I  had  in  thee.     Let  me  forget  the  thought  280 

Of  thy  most  pretty  infancy :  when  first 
Returning  from  the  wars,  I  took  delight 
To  rock  thee  in  my  target ;  when  my  girl 
Would  kiss  her  father  in  his  burganet 
Of  glittering  steel  hung  'bout  his  armed  neck ; 
And,  viewing  the  bright  metal,  smile  to  see 
Another  fair  Virginia  smile  on  thee : 
When  I  first  taught  thee  how  to  go,  to  speak : 
And  when  my  wouncjs  have  smarted,  I  have  sung 


3l6  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [ACT  iv 

With  an  unskilful,  yet  a  willing  voice,  290 

To  bring  my  girl  asleep.     0  my  Virginia, 
When  we  begun  to  be,  begun  our  woes, 
Increasing  still,  as  dying  hfe  still  grows  ! 

Appius.    This  tediousness  does  much  offend  the  court. 
Silence  !   attend  her  sentence. 

Virginius.   Hold !     without    sentence   I'll    resign    her 
freely, 
Since  you  will  prove  her  to  be  none  of  mine. 

Appius.   See,  see,  how  evidently  truth  appears. 
Receive  her,  Claudius. 

Virginius.   Thus  I  surrender  her  into  the  court         3°° 

[Kills  her. 
Of  all  the  gods.     And  see,  proud  Appius,  see. 
Although  not  justly,  I  have  made  her  free. 
And  if  thy  lust  with  this  act  be  not  fed. 
Bury  her  in  thy  bowels  now  she's  dead. 

Onmes.   0,  horrid  act ! 

Appius.  Lay  hand  upon  the  murderer  ! 

Virginius.   O  for  a  ring  of  pikes  to  circle  me  ! 
What !  have  I  stood  the  brunt  of  thousand  enemies 
Here  to  be  slain  by  hangmen  ?  No  ;  I'll  fly 
To  safety  in  the  camp.  [Exit, 

Appius.  Some  pursue  the  villain. 

Others  take  up  the  body.     Madness  and  rage  31° 

Are  still  th'  attendants  of  old  doting  age.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II  "^ 
Enter  two  Soldiers 

First  Soldier.   Is  our  hut  swept  clean  ? 

Second  Soldier.  As  I  can  make  it. 

First  Soldier.    'Tis  betwixt  us  two ; 
But  how  many,  think 'st  thou,  bred  of  Roman  blood. 
Did  lodge  with  us  last  night  ? 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  317 

Second  Soldier.   More,  I  think,  than    the  camp  hath 
enemies ; 
They  are  not  to  be  numbered. 

First  Soldier.  Comrague,  I  fear 

Appius  will  doom  us  to  Acta^on's  death. 
To  be  worried  by  the  cattle  that  we  feed. 
How  goes  the  day  ? 

Second  Soldier.        My  stomach  has  struck  twelve. 

First  Soldier.   Come,  see  what  provant  our  knapsack 
yields.  10 

This  is  our  store,  our  garner. 

Second  Soldier.  A  small  pittance. 

First  Soldier.    Feeds    Appius    thus?     Is    this  a  city 
feast  ? 
This  crust  doth  taste  like  date  stones,  and  this  thing, 
If  I  knew  what  to  call  it  — 

Second  Soldier.   I  can  tell  you :  cheese  struck  in  years. 

First  Soldier.   I  do  not  think  but  this  same  crust  was 
baked. 
And  this  cheese  frighted  out  of  milk  and  whey, 
Before  we  two  were  soldiers :   though  it  be  old, 
I  see't  can  crawl :  what  lixang  things  be  these 
That  walk  so  freely  'tween  the  rind  and  pith  ?  20 

For  here's  no  sap  left. 

Second  Soldier.   They  call  them  gentles. 

First  Soldier.  Therefore  'tis  thought  fit, 

That  soldiers,  by  profession  gentlemen. 
Should  thus  be  fed  with  gentles.     I  am  stomach  sick ; 
I  must  have  some  strong  water. 

Second  Soldier.  Where  will  you  hav't  ? 

First  Soldier.   In  yon  green  ditch,  a  place  which  none 
can  pass 
But  he  must  stop  his  nose ;  thou  know'st  it  well : 
There  where  the  two  dead  dogs  lie. 

Second  Soldier.  Yes,  I  know't. 

First  Soldier.   And  see  the  cat  that  lies  a  distance  off 
Be  flayed  for  supper :  though  we  dine  to-day  3° 


3l8  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

As  Dutchmen  feed  their  soldiers,"  we  will  sup 
Bravely,  like  Roman  leaguerers. 

Second  Soldier.  Sir,  the  general. 

First  Soldier.   We'll  give  him  place  : 
But  tell  none  of  our  dainties,  lest  we  have 
Too  many  guests  to  supper.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Minutius  with  his  Soldiers,  reading  a  letter 

Min.   Most  sure  'tis  so,  it  cannot  otherwise  be. 
Either  Virginius  is  degenerate 
From  the  ancient  virtues  he  was  wont  to  boast, 
Or  in  some  strange  displeasure  with  the  Senate ; 
Why  should  these  letters  else  from  Appius  40 

Confine  him  a  close  prisoner  to  the  camp  ? 
And,  which  confirms  his  guilt,  why  should  he  fly  ? 
Needs  then  must  I  incur  some  high  displeasure 
For  negligence,  to  let  him  thus  escape ; 
Which  to  excuse,  and  that  it  may  appear 
I  have  no  hand  with  him,  but  am  of  faction 
Opposed  in  all  things  to  the  least  misdeed, 
I  will  cashier  him,  and  his  tribuneship 
Bestow  upon  some  noble  gentleman 
Belonging  to  the  camp.     Soldiers  and  friends,  50 

You  that  beneath  Virginius'  colours  marched, 
By  strict  command  from  the  Decemvirate, 
We  take  you  from  the  charge  of  him  late  fled. 
And  his  authority,  command,  and  honour. 
We  give  this  worthy  Roman.     Know  his  colours, 
And  prove  his  faithful  soldiers. 

Roman.  Warlike  general. 

My  courage  and  my  forwardness  in  battle 
Shall  plead  how  well  I  can  deserve  the  title, 
To  be  a  Roman  tribune. 

Enter  a  Soldier  in  haste 
Min.  Now,  the  news  ? 


SCENE  n]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  319 

Soldier.   Virginius,  in  a  strange  shape  of  distraction,  60 
Enters  the  camp,  and  at  his  heels  a  legion 
Of  all  estates,  growths,  ages,  and  degrees. 
With  breathless  paces  dog  his  frighted  steps. 
It  seems  half  Rome's  unpeopled  with  a  train, 
That  either  for  some  mischief  done,  pursue  him, 
Or  to  attend  some  uncouth  novelty. 

Min.   Some     wonder     our     fear     promises.     Worthy 
soldiers. 
Marshal  yourselves,  and  entertain  this  novel 
Within  a  ring  of  steel.     Wall  in  this  portent 
With  men  and  harness,  be  it  ne'er  so  dreadful.  70 

He's  entered,  by  the  clamour  of  the  camp, 
That  entertains  him  with  these  echoing  shouts. 
Affection  that  in  soldiers'  hearts  is  bred. 
Survives  the  wounded,  and  outlives  the  dead. 

Enter  ViRGmi\j?,,with  his  knife,  that  and  his  arms,  stripped 
up  to  the  elbows,  all  bloody;  coming  into  the  midst  of  the 
Soldiers,  he  makes  a  stand 

Virginius.   Have  I  in  all  this  populous  assembly 
Of  soldiers,  that  have  proved  Virginius'  valour, 
One  friend  ?      Let  him  come  thrill  his  partisan 
Against  this  breast,  that  through  a  large  wide  wound 
My  mighty  soul  might  rush  out  of  this  prison, 
To  fly  more  freely  to  yon  crystal  palace,  80 

Where  honour  sits  enthronised.     WTiat !  no  friend  ? 
Can  this  great  multitude,  then,  yield  an  enemy 
That  hates  my  life  ?     Here  let  him  seize  it  freely. 
What !  no  man  strike  ?  Am  I  so  well  beloved  ? 
Minutius,  then  to  thee :  if  in  this  camp 
There  lives  one  man  so  just  to  punish  sin, 
So  charitable  to  redeem  from  torments 
A  wretched  soldier,  at  his  worthy  hand 
I  beg  a  death. 

Min.  What  means  Virginius  ? 

Virginius.   Or  if  the  general's  heart  be  so  obdure       go 


320  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

To  an  old  begging  soldier,  have  I  here 
No  honest  legionary  of  mine  own  troop, 
At  whose  bold  hand  and  sword,  if  not  entreat, 
I  may  command  a  death  ? 

First  Soldier.  Alas  !  good  captain. 

Mill.   Virginius,  you  have  no  comand  at  all ! 
Your  companies  are  elsewhere  now  bestowed. 
Besides,  we  have  a  charge  to  stay  you  here. 
And  make  you  the  camp's  prisoner. 

Virginius.  General,  thanks : 

For  thou  hast  done  as  much  with  one  harsh  word 
As  I  begged  from  their  weapons ;   thou  hast  killed  me,  loo 
But  with  a  living  death. 

Min.  Besides,  I  charge  you 

To  speak  what  means  this  ugly  face  of  blood," 
You  put  on  your  distractions  ?     What's  the  reason 
All  Rome  pursues  you,  covering  those  high  hills, 
As  if  they  dogged  you  for  some  damned  act  ? 
What  have  you  done  ? 

Virginius.  t  have  played  the  parricide ; 

Killed  mine  own  child. 

Min.  Virginia ! 

Virginius.  Yes,  even  she. 

These  rude  hands  ripped  her,  and  her  innocent  blood 
Flowed  above  my  elbows. 

Min.  Killed  her  willingly  ! 

Virginius.   Willingly,  with  advice,  premeditation,      no 
And  settled  purpose ;  and  see  still  I  wear 
Her  crimson  colours,  and  these  withered  arms 
Are  dyed  in  her  heart  blood. 

Min.  Most  wretched  villain  ! 

Virginius.   But  how  ?  I    loved    her    life.     Lend    me 
amongst  you 
One  speaking  organ  to  discourse  her  death. 
It  is  too  harsh  an  imposition 
To  lay  upon  a  father.     0  my  Virginia  ! 

Min.   How  agrees  this  ?     Love  her,  and  murder  her  ! 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  321 

Virginius.   Yes :  give  me  but  a  little  leave  to  drain 
A  few  red  tears,  for  soldiers  should  weep  blood,         120 
And  I'll  agree  them  well.     Attend  me  all. 
Alas  !  might  I  have  kept  her  chaste  and  free. 
This  life,  so  oft  engaged  for  ingrateful  Rome, 
Lay  in  her  bosom :  but  when  I  saw  her  pulled 
By  Appius'  lictors  to  be  claimed  a  slave. 
And  dragged  into  a  public  sessons-house. 
Divorced  from  her  fore-spousals  with  Icilius, 
A  noble  youth,  and  made  a  bondwoman. 
Enforced  by  violence  from  her  father's  arms 
To  be  a  prostitute  and  paramour  130 

To  the  rude  twinings  of  a  lecherous  judge ; 
Then,. then,  O  loving  soldiers  (I'll  not  deny  it, 
For  'twas  mine  honour,  my  paternal  pity. 
And  the  sole  act,  for  which  I  love  my  Hfe) ; 
Then  lustful  Appius,  he  that  sways  the  land, 
Slew  poor  Virginia  by  this  father's  hand. 

First  Soldier.   O  villain  Appius  ! 

Second  Soldier.   O  noble  Virginius  ! 

Virginius.   To  you  I  appeal,  you  are  my  sentencers : 
Did  Appius  right,  or  poor  Virginius  wrong?  140 

Sentence  my  fact  with  a  free  general  tongue." 

First  Soldier.   Appius  is  the  parricide. 

Second  Soldier.  Virginius  guiltless  of  his  daughter's  death. 

Min.   If  this  be  true,  Virginius  (as  the  moan 
Of  all  the  Roman  fry  that  follows  you 
Confirms  at  large),  this  cause  is  to  be  pitied, 
And  should  not  die  revengeless. 

Virginius.  Noble  Minutius, 

Thou  hast  a  daughter,  thou  hast  a  wife  too ; 
So  most  of  you  have,  soldiers ;  why  might  not  this 
Have  happened  you?     Which  of  you  all,  dear  friends. 
But  now,  even  now,  may  have  your  wives  deflowered. 
Your  daughters  slaved,  and  made  a  lictor's  prey?        152 
Think  them  not  safe  in  Rome,  for  mine  lived  there. 

Roman.   It  is  a  common  cause. 


322  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  iv 

First  Soldier.   Appius  shall  die  for't. 

Second  Soldier.   Let's  make  Virginius  general ! 

Omnes.   A  general !    a  general !  let's    make    Virginius 
general ! 

Min.   It  shall  be  so.     Virginius,   take  my  charge : 
The  wrongs  are  thine,  so  violent  and  so  weighty, 
That  none  but  he  that  lost  so  fair  a  child,  i6o 

Knows  how  to  punish.     By  the  gods  of  Rome, 
Virginius  shall  succeed  my  full  command. 

Virginius.   What's  honour  unto  me  ?  a  weak  old  man, 
Weary  of  life,  and  covetous  of  a  grave : 
I  am  a  dead  man  now  Virginia  lives  not. 
The  selfsame  hand  that  dared  to  save  from  shame 
A  child,  dares  in  the  father  act  the  same. 

[Offers  to  kill  himself. 

First  Soldier.   Stay,  noble  general ! 

Min.   You  much  forget  revenge,  Virginius. 
Who,  if  you  die,  will  take  your  cause  in  hand,  170 

And  proscribe  Appius,  should  you  perish  thus  ? 

Virginius.   Thou     ought'st,     Minutius:     soldiers,     so 
ought  you. 
I'm  out  of  fear ;  my  noble  wife's  expired ; 
My  daughter,  of  blessed  memory,  the  object 
Of  Appius'  lust,  lives  'mongst  th'  Elysian  Vestals ; 
My  house  yields  none  fit  for  his  lictors'  spoil. 
You  that  have  wives  lodged  in  yon  prison,  Rome, 
Have  lands  unrifled,  houses  yet  unseized. 
Your  freeborn  daughters  yet  unstrumpeted. 
Prevent  these  mischiefs  yet  while  you  have  time.  180 

First  Soldier.   We  will  by  you,  our  noble  general. 

Second  Soldier.   He    that    was    destined    to    preserve 
great  Rome. 

Virginius.   I  accept  your   choice,    in   hope   to   guard 
you  all 
From  my  inhuman  sufferings.     Be't  my  pride 
That  I  have  bred  a  daughter,  whose  chaste  blood 
Was  spilt  for  you,  and  for  Rome's  lasting  good.     [Exeunt, 


ACT  THE    FIFTH 

Scene  I" 

Enter  Oppius,  a  Senator,  and  the  Advocate 

0pp.   Is  Appius,  then,  committed  ? 

Sen.  So  'tis  rumoured. 

0pp.   How  will  you  bear  you  in  this  turbulent  state  ? 
You  are  a  member  of  that  wretched  faction : 
I  wonder  how  you  scape  imprisonment. 

Adv.   Let  me  alone ;  I  have  learnt  with  the  wise  hedge- 
hog, 
To  stop  my  cave  that  way  the  tempest  drives. 
Never  did  bear-whelp  tumbling  down  a  hill. 
With  more  art  shrink  his  head  betwixt  his  claws, 
Than  I  will  work  my  safety.     Appius 
Is  in  the  sand  already  up  to  th'  chin,  lo 

And  shall  I  hjizard  landing  on  that  shelf  ? 
He's  a  wise  friend  that  first  befriends  himself. 

0pp.   What  is  your  course  of  safety  ? 

Adv.  Marry,  this: 

Virginius,  with  his  troops,  is  entering  Rome, 
And  it  is  like  that  in  the  market-place 
My  lord  Icilius  and  himself  shall  meet : 
Now  to  encounter  these,  two  such  great  armies, 
Where  lies  my  court  of  guard  ?  ° 

Sen.  Why,  in  your  heels : 

There  are  strange  dogs  uncoupled. 

Adv.  You  are  deceived : 

I  have  studied  a  most  eloquent  oration,  20 

That  shall  applaud  their  fortune,  and  distaste 
The  cruelty  of  Appius. 

Sen.  Very  good,  sir : 

It  seems,  then,  you  will  rail  upon  your  lord. 
Your  late  good  benefactor  ? 

323 


324  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  v 

Adv.  By  the  way,  sir. 

Sen.   Protest  Virginia  was  no  bondwoman, 
And  read  her  noble  pedigree  ? 

Adv.  By  the  way,  sir. 

0pp.   Could  you  not,  by  the  way,  too,  find  occasion 
To  beg  lord  Appius'  lands  ? 

Adv.  And  by  the  way 

Perchance  I  will ;  for  I  will  gull  them  all 
Most  palpably. 

0pp.  Indeed  you  have  the  art  30 

Of  flattery. 

Adv.  Of  rhetoric,  you  would  say : 

And  I'll  begin  my  smooth  oration  thus : 
Most  learned  captains  — 

Sen.   Fie,  fie,  that's  horrible !  most  of  your  captains 
Are  utterly  unlearned. 

Adv.   Yet,  I  assure  you, 
Most  of  them  know  arithmetic  so  well. 
That  in  a  muster,  to  preserve  dead  pays," 
They'll  make  twelve  stand  for  twenty. 

0pp.  Very  good. 

Adv.   Then  I  proceed ;  4° 

/  do  applaud  your  fortunes,  and  commend 
In  this  your  observation,  noble  shake-rags : 
The  helmet  shall  no  more  harbour  the  spider, 
But  it  shall  serve  to  carouse  sack  and  cider. 
The  rest  within  I'll  study.  [Exit. 

0pp.  Farewell,  Proteus, 

And  I  shall  wish  thy  eloquent  bravado 
May  shield  thee  from  the  whip  and  bastinado. 
Now  in  this  furious  tempest  let  us  glide, 
With  folded  sails,  at  pleasure  of  the  tide.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II]  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  325 

Scene  II" 

Enter  Icilius,  Horatius,  Valerius,  Numitorius,  at  one 
door,  with  Soldiers ;  Virginius,  Minutius,  and  others, 
at  the  other  door 

Icil.   Stand ! 

Virginius.   Make  a  stand  !  ° 

Icil.   A  parley  with  Virginius. 

Min.   We  will  not  trust  our  general  'twixt  the  armies, 
But  upon  terms  of  hostage. 

Num.   Well  advised : 
Nor  we  our  general.     Who  for  the  leaguer  ? 

Min.   Ourself. 

Virginius.   Who  for  the  city  ? 

IcU.   Numitorius.  10 

[Minutius  a^id  Numitorius   meet,  embrace,  and 
salute  the  generals. 

Num.   How  is  it  with  your  sorrow,  noble  brother? 

Virginius.   I  am  forsaken  of  the  gods,  old  man. 

Num.   Preach  not  that  wretched  doctrine  to  yourself, 
It  will  beget  despair. 

Virginius.  What  do  you  call 

A  burning  fever  ?     Is  not  that  a  devil  ? 
It  shakes  me  like  an  earthquake.     Wilt  a',  wilt  a' ! " 
Give  me  some  wine  ? 

Num.  O,  it  is  hurtful  for  you. 

Virginius.   Why  so  are  all  things  that  the  appetite 
Of  man  doth  covet  in  his  perfect'st  health. 
Whatever  art  or  nature  have  invented,  20 

To  make  the  boundless  wish  of  man  contented, 
Are  all  his  poison.     Give  me  the  wine  there :  when  ?  " 
Do  you  grudge  me  a  poor  cup  of  drink  ?     Say,  say. 
Now  by  the  gods,  I'll  leave  enough  behind  me 
To  pay  my  debts ;  and  for  the  rest,  no  matter 
Who  scrambles  for't. 

Num.   Here,  my  noble  brother. 
Alas  !  your  hand  shakes :  I  will  guide  it  to  you. 


326  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  v 

Virginius.   'Tis  true,  it  trembles.     Welcome,  thou  just 
palsy  ! 
'Twere  pity  this  should  do  me  longer  service,  30 

Now  it  hath  slain  my  daughter.     So,  I  thank  you :  ° 
Now  I  have  lost  all  comforts  in  the  world, 
It  seems  I  must  a  little  longer  live, 
Be't  but  to  serve  my  belly. 

Min.  O  my  lord, 

This  violent  fever  took  him  late  last  night : 
Since  when,  the  cruelty  of  the  disease 
Hath  drawn  him  into  sundry  passions. 
Beyond  his  wonted  temper. 

Icil.  'Tis  the  gods 

Have  poured  their  justice  on  him. 

Virginius.   You  are  sadly  met,  my  lord. 

Icil.  Would  we  had  met     40 

In  a  cold  grave  together  two  months  since  ! 
I  should  not  then  have  cursed  you. 

Virginius.  Ha  !     What's  that  ? 

Icil.   Old    man,    thou    hast    showed    thyself  a   noble 
Roman, 
But  an  unnatural  father :  thou  hast  turned 
My  bridal  to  a  funeral.     What  devil 
Did  arm  thy  fury  with  the  lion's  paw, 
The  dragon's  tail,  with  the  bull's  double  horn, 
The  cormorant's  beak,  the  cockatrice's  eyes, 
The  scorpion's  teeth,  and  all  these  by  a  father 
To  be  employed  upon  his  innocent  child  ?  50 

Virginius.   Young  man,  I  love  thy  true  description : 
I  am  happy  now,  that  one  beside  myself 
Doth  teach  me  for  this  act.     Yet,  were  I  pleased, 
I  could  approve  the  deed  most  just  and  noble ; 
And,  sure,  posterity,  which  truly  renders 
To  each  man  his  desert,  shall  praise  me  for't. 

Icil.   Come,  'twas  unnatural  and  damnable. 

Virginius.   You  need  not  interrupt  me :  here's  a  fury  ° 
Will  do  it  for  you  !     You  are  a  Roman  knight : 


SCENE  iij  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA      •  327 

What  was  your  oath  when  you  received  your  knight- 
hood ?  60 
A  parcel  of  it  is,  as  I  remember, 
Ralher  lo  die  with  honour,  than  to  live 
In  servitude.     Had  my  poor  girl  been  ravished, 
In  her  dishonour,  and  in  my  sad  grief. 
Your  love  and  pity  quickly  had  ta'en  end. 
Great  men's  misfortunes  thus  have  ever  stood. 
They  touch  none  nearly,  but  their  nearest  blood. 
What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?     It  seems,  my  lord, 
Now  you  have  caught  the  sword  within  your  hand, 
Like  a  madman  you'll  draw  it  to  offend  7° 
Those  that  best  love  you ;  and  perhaps  the  counsel 
Of  some  loose  unthrifts,  and  vile  malcontents 
Hearten  you  to  it :  go  to  !  take  your  course. 
My  faction  shall  not  give  the  least  advantage 
To  murderers,  to  banquerouts,  or  thieves. 
To  fleece  the  commonwealth. 

Icil.  Do  you  term  us  so  ? 

Shall  I  reprove  your  rage,  or  is't  your  malice  ? 
He  that  would  tame  a  lion,  doth  not  use 
The  goad  or  wired  whip,  but  a  sweet  voice, 
A  fearful  stroking,  and  with  food  in  hand  8c 

Must  ply  his  wanton  hunger. 

Virginius.  Want  of  sleep 

Will  do  it  better  than  all  these,  my  lord. 
I  would  not  have  you  wake  for  others'  ruin. 
Lest  you  turn  mad  with  watching. 

Icil.  O  you  gods  ! 

You  are  now  a  general ;  learn  to  know  your  place. 
And  use  your  noble  calling  modestly. 
Better  had  Appius  been  an  upright  judge, 
And  yet  an  evil  man,  than  honest  man. 
And  yet  a  dissolute  judge ;  for  all  disgrace 
Lights  less  upon  the  person  than  the  place.  90 

You  are  i'  th'  city  now,  where  if  you  raise 
But  the  least  uproar,  even  your  father's  house 


328  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  [act  v 

Shall  not  be  free  from  ransack.     Piteous  fires 
That  chance  in  towers  of  stone  are  not  so  feared 
As  those  that  light  in  flax-shops ;   for  there's  food 
For  eminent  ruin. 

Min.  0  my  noble  lord  ! 

Let  not  your  passion  bring  a  fatal  end 
To  such  a  good  beginning.     All  the  world 
Shall  honour  that  deed  in  him  which  first 
Grew  to  a  reconcilement." 

Icil.  Come,  my  lord,  loo 

I  love  your  friendship ;  yes,  in  sooth,  I  do ; 
But  will  not  seal  it  with  that  bloody  hand. 
Join  we  our  armies.     No  fantastic  copy, 
Or  borrowed  precedent  will  I  assume 
In  my  revenge.     There's  hope  yet  you  may  live 
To  outwear  this  sorrow. 

Virginius.  O,  impossible  ! 

A  minute's  joy  to  me  would  quite  cross  nature. 
As  those  that  long  have  dwelt  in  noisome  rooms, 
Swoon  presently  if  they  but  scent  perfumes. 

Icil.   To  th'  Senate  !     Come,  no  more  of  this  sad  tale ; 
For  such  a  tell-tale  may  we  term  our  grief,  m 

And  doth  as  'twere  so  Hsten  to  her  own  words  — 
Envious  of  others'  sleep,  because  she  wakes  — 
I  ever  would  converse  with  a  grieved  person 
In  a  long  journey  to  beguile  the  day. 
Or  winter  evening  to  pass  time  away. 
March  on,  and  let  proud  Appius  in  our  view, 
Like  a  tree  rotted,  fall  that  way  he  grew.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III 
Enter  Appius  and  Marcus  in  prison,  fettered  and  gyved 

Appius.   The  world  is  changed  now.     All  damnations 
Seize  on  the  hydra-headed  multitude, 


SCENE  III]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  329 

That  only  gape  for  innovation. 
O,  who  would  trust  a  people  ! 

Marcus.  Nay,  who  would  not, 

Rather  than  one  reared  on  a  popular  suffrage, 
Whose  station's  built  on  avees"  and  applause  ? 
There's  no  firm  structure  on  these  airy  bases. 
O,  fie  upon  such  greatness  ! 

A  p pins.  The  same  hands 

That  yesterday  to  hear  me  concionate, 
And  oratorize,  rung  shrill  plaudits  forth  10 

In  sign  of  grace,  now  in  contempt  and  scorn 
Hurry  me  to  this  place  of  darkness. 

Marcus.   Could  not  their  poisons  rather  spend  them- 
selves 
On  th'  judge's  folly,  but  must  it  need  stretch 
To  me  his  servant,  and  sweep  me  along  ? 
Curse  on  the  inconstant  rabble ! 

A p plus.  Grieves  it  thee 

To  impart  my  sad  disaster  ? 

Marcus.  Marry  doth  it. 

Appius.   Thou  shared'st   a   fortune   with   me   in   my 
greatness ; 
I  haled  thee  after  when  I  climbed  my  state ; 
And  shrink'st  thou  at  my  ruin  ? 

Marcus.  I  loved  your  greatness,    20 

And  would  have  traced  you  in  the  golden  path 
Of  sweet  promotion ;  but  this  your  decline 
Sours  all  these  hoped  sweets. 

Appius.  'Tis  the  world  right :° 

Such  gratitude  a  great  man  still  shall  have 
That  trusts  unto  a  temporizing  slave. 

Marcus.    Slave  !  good.     Which  of  us, two 
In  our  dejection  is  basest  ?     I  am  most  sure 
Your  loathsome  dungeon  is  as  dark  as  mine ; 
Your  conscience  for  a  thousand  sentences 
Wrongly  denounced,  much  more  oppressed  than  mine ;  3° 
Then  which  is  the  most  slave  ? 


330  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  v 

Appius.  O,  double  baseness, 

To  hear  a  drudge  thus  with  his  lord  compare  ! 
Great  men  disgraced,  slaves  to  their  servants  are. 

Enter    Virginius,    Icilius,    Minutius,    Numitokius, 
HoRATius,  Valerius,  Oppius,  with  Soldiers 

Virginius.   Soldiers,   keep  a  strong  guard  whilst  we 
survey 
Our  sentenced  prisoners :  and  from  this  deep  dungeon 
Keep  off  that  great  concourse,  whose  violent  hands 
Would  ruin  this  stone  building,  and  drag  hence 
This  impious  judge,  piecemeal  to  tear  his  limbs. 
Before  the  law  convince  him. 

Icil.  See  these  monsters, 

Whose  fronts  the  fair  Virginia's  innocent  blood  40 

Hath  vizarded  with  such  black  ugliness. 
That  they  are  loathsome  to  all  good  men's  souls. 
Speak,  damned  judge  !   how  canst  thou  purge  thyself 
From  lust  and  blood  ? 

Appius.  I  do  confess  myself 

Guilty  of  both :  yet  hear  me,  noble  Romans. 
Virginius,  thou  dost  but  supply  my  place, 
I  thine :  fortune  hath  lift  to  me  my  chair, 
And  thrown  me  headlong  to  thy  pleading-bar. 
If  in  mine  eminence  I  was  stern  to  thee, 
Shunning  my  rigour,  likewise  shun  my  fall ;  50 

And  being  mild  where  I  showed  cruelty. 
Establish  still  thy  greatness.     Make  some  use 
Of  this  my  bondage.     With  indifference 
Survey  me,  and  compare  my  yesterday 
With  this  sad  hour,  my  height  with  my  decline, 
And  give  them  equal  balance. 

Virginius.   Uncertain  fate !    but  yesterday  his  breath 
Awed  Rome,  and  his  least  torved  frown  was  death : 
I  cannot  choose  but  pity  and  lament, 
So  high  a  rise  should  have  such  low  descent.  60 


SCENE  iiij  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA  33 1 

Icil.    [Aside.]  He's  ready  to  forget  his  injury: 
O  too  relenting  age  !  —  Thinks  not  Virginius, 
If  he  should  pardon  Appius  this  black  deed, 
And  set  him  once  more  in  the  ivory  chair, 
He  would  be  wary  to  avoid  the  like, 
Become  a  new  man,  a  more  upright  judge, 
And  deserve  better  of  the  common  weal  ? 

Virginius.    'Tis  like  he  would. 

Icil.  Nay,  if  you  thus  begin, 

I'll  fetch  that  [that]  shall  anatomize  his  sin."  [Exit. 

Num.   Virginius,  you  are  too  remiss  to  punish  70 

Deeds  of  this  nature :  you  must  fashion  now 
Your  actions  to  your  place,  not  to  your  passion : 
Severity  to  such  acts  is  as  necessary 
As  pity  to  the  tears  of  innocence. 

Min.   He  speaks  but  law  and  justice. 
Make  good  the  streets  with  your  best  men  at  arms. 

[A  shout. 
Valerius  and  Horatius,  know  the  reason 
Of  this  loud  uproar,  and  confused  noise. 

[Exeunt  Val.  and  Hor. 
Although  my  heart  be  melting  at  the  fall 
Of  men  in  place  and  office,  we'll  be  just  80 

To  punish  murd'rous  acts,  and  censure  lust. 

Enter  Valerius  and  Horatius 

Val.   Icilius,  worthy  lord,  bears  through  the  street 
The  body  of  Virginia  towards  this  prison ; 
Which  when  it  was  discovered  to  the  people, 
Moved  such  a  mournful  clamour,  that  their  cries 
Pierced  Heaven,  and  forced  tears  from  their  sorrowing 
eyes. 

Hor.   Here  comes  Icilius. 

Enter  Icilius  with  the  body  of  Virginia 

Icil.   Where  was  the  pity,  when  thou  slewest  this  maid, 
Thou  would'st  extend  to  Appius  ?     Pity  !     See 


332  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  v 

Her  wounds  still  bleeding  at  the  horrid  presence  90 

Of  yon  stern  murderer,"  till  she  find  revenge ; 

Nor  will  these  drops  stanch,  or  these  springs  be  dry 

Till  theirs  be  set  a-bleeding.     Shall  her  soul 

(Whose  essence  some  suppose  lives  in  the  blood), 

Still  labour  without  rest  ?     Will  old  Virginius 

Murder  her  once  again  in  this  delay  ? 

Virginius.   Pause  there,  Icilius. 
This  sight  hath  stiffened  all  my  operant  powers, 
Iced  all  my  blood,  benumbed  my  motion"  quite. 
I'll  pour  my  soul  into  my  daughter's  belly,  100 

And  with  a  soldier's  tears  embalm  her  wounds. 
My  only  dear  Virginia  ! 

Appius.  Leave  this  passion ; 

Proceed  to  your  just  sentence. 

Virginius.   We  will.     Give  me  two  swords.     Appius, 
grasp  this ; 
You,  Claudius,  that :  you  shall  be  your  own  hangmen ;  " 
Do  justice  on  yourselves.     You  made  Virginius 
Sluice  his  own  blood,  lodged  in  his  daughter's  breast, 
Which  your  own  hands  shall  act  upon  yourselves. 
If  you  be  Romans,  and  retain  their  spirits. 
Redeem  a  base  life  with  a  noble  death,  no 

And  through  your  lust-burnt  veins  confine  your  breath. 

Appius.   Virginius  is  a  noble  justicer: 
Had  I  my  crooked  paths  levelled  by  thine, 
I  had  not  swayed  the  balance.     Think  not,  lords, 
But  he  that  had  the  spirit  to  oppose  the  gods. 
Dares  likewise  suffer  what  their  powers  inflict. 
I  have  not  dreaded  famine,  fire,  nor  strage. 
Their  common  vengeance ;"  poison  in  my  cup, 
Nor  dagger  in  my  bosom,  the  revenge 
Of  private  men  for  private  injuries ;  120 

Nay,  more  than  these,  not  feared  to  commit  evil, 
And  shall  I  tremble  at  the  punishment  ? 
Now  with  as  much  resolved  constancy. 
As  I  offended,  will  I  pay  the  mulct, 


SCENE  III]  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  333 

And  this  black  stain  laid  on  my  family 

(Than  which  a  nobler  hath  not  place  in  Rome), 

Wash  with  my  l)lood  away.     Learn  of  me,  Claudius ; 

I'll  teach  thee  what  thou  never  studied'st  yet, 

That's  bravely  how  to  die.     Judges  are  termed 

The  gods  on  earth ;  and  such  as  are  corrupt  130 

Read  me  in  this  my  ruin.     Those  that  succeed  me 

That  so  offend,  thus  punish.     This  the  sum  of  all, 

Appius  that  sinned,  by  Appius'  hand  shall  fall. 

[Kills  himself. 

Virginins.   He  died  as  boldly  as  he  basely  erred. 
And  so  should  every  true-bred  Roman  do.° 
And  he  whose  life  was  odious,  thus  expiring. 
In  his  death  forceth  pity.     Claudius,  thou 
Wast  follower  of  his  fortunes  in  his  being, 
Therefore  in  his  not  being  imitate 
His  fair  example. 

Marcus.  Death  is  terrible  140 

Unto  a  conscience  that's  oppressed  with  guilt. 
They  say  there  is  Elysium  and  hell ; 
The  first  I  have  forfeited,  the  latter  fear : 
My  skin  is  not  sword-proof. 

Icil.  Why  dost  thou  pause  ? 

Marcus.    For  mercy:   mercy,  I  entreat  you  all. 
Is't  not  sufficient  for  Virginius'  slain 
That  Appius  suffered  ?  one  of  noble  blood, 
And  eminence  in  place,  for  a  plebeian  ? 
Besides,  he  was  my  lord,  and  might  command  me : 
If  I  did  aught,  'twas  by  compulsion,  lords;  150 

And  therefore  I  crave  mercy. 

Icil.  Shall  I  doom  him  ? 

Virginius.   Do,  good  Icilius. 

Icil.  Then  I  sentence  thus : 

Thou  hadst  a  mercy,  most  unmeriting  slave, 
Of  which  thy  base  birth  was  not  capable. 
Which  we  take  off  by  taking  thence  thy  sword. 
And  note  the  difference  'twixt  a  noble  strain. 


334  APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  [act  v 

And  one  bred  from  the  rabble :  both  aUke 

Dared  to  transgress,  but  see  their  odds  in  death : 

Appius  died  Hke  a  Roman  gentleman, 

And  a  man  both  ways  knowing ;  but  this  slave  i6o 

Is  only  sensible  of  vicious  living, 

Not  apprehensive  of  a  noble  death : 

Therefore  as  a  base  malefactor,  we, 

And  timorous  slave,  give  him,  as  he  deserves, 

Unto  the  common  hangman. 

Marcus.  What,  no  mercy  ! 

.    Icil.    Stop's  mouth : 

Away  with  him  !     The  life  of  the  Decemviri 
Expires  in  them.     Rome,  thou  at  length  art  free, 
Restored  unto  thine  ancient  liberty  ! 

Mi7i.   Of  consuls;    which  bold  Junius  Brutus  first    170 
Begun  in  Tarquin's  fall.     Virginius,  you 
And  young  Icilius  shall  his  place  succeed, 
So  by  the  people's  suffrage  'tis  decreed. 

Virginius.   We  marshal  then  our  soldiers  in  that  name 
Of  consuls,  honoured  with  these  golden  bays. 
Two  fair,  but  ladies  most  infortunate, 
Have  in  their  ruins  raised  declining  Rome, 
Lucretia  and  Virginia,  both  renowned 
For  chastity.     Soldiers  and  noble  Romans, 
To  grace  her  death,  whose  life  hath  freed  great  Rome, 
March  with  her  corse  to  her  sad  funeral  tomb  !  181 

[Flourish.    Eoceuni. 


THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 


THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY. 

The  Rcvenger^s  Tragedy  was  first  printed  in  1607  and  again 
in  the  next  year.  Tourneur's  name  appears  on  neither  of  these 
titles  and  his  authorship  is  accepted  rather  than  certain.  The 
source  of  the  plot  of  this  involved  and  intricate  intrigue  has  not 
been  found.  It  is  the  arch-study  which  our  drama  affords  of 
the  degeneracy  of  court  life  in  the  age  of  the  Italian  decadence. 
Our  very  revulsion  at  its  horrors  and  its  wickedness  is  a  tribute 
to  the  realistic  art  of  its  powerful  author. 


337 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

The  Duke. 

LussuRioso,  the  Duke's  Son. 

Spurio,  a  Bastard. 

Ambitioso,  the  Duchess'  Eldest  Son. 

SuPERVACuo,  the  Duchess'  Second  Son. 

The  Duchess'  Youngest  Son. 

Vendice,  disc;uised  as  Piato,    )    _      ,  ^  „ 

?         „    ,  ^  \    Brothers  of  Castiza. 

HippoLiTO,  also  called  Carlo,  ) 

Antonio,   )  ^,  ,  , 
-„  I  Nobles. 

PlERO,  ) 

DONDOLO. 

Judges,  Nobles,  Gentlemen,  Officers,  Keeper,  Servants. 

The  Duchess. 

Castiza. 

Gratiana,  Mother  of  Castiza. 

Scene  —  A  Citv  of  Italy 


338 


THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 

ACT  THE   FIRST 

Scene  I 

Near  the  House  of  Gratiana 

Enter    Vendice."    The    Duke,    Duchess,   Lussurioso, 
Spurio,  with  a  train,  pass  over  the  stage  with  torch-light 

Ven.   Duke  !  royal  lecher  !  go,  grey-haired  adultery 
And  thou  his  son,  as  impious  steeped  as  he  : 
And  thou  his  bastard,  true  begot  in  evil : 
And  thou  his  duchess,  that  will  do  with  de\dl  ° 
Four  excellent  characters  !     O,  that  marrowless  age 
Should  stuff  the  hollow  bones  with  damned  desires  ! 
And,  'stead  of  heat,  kindle  infernal  fires 
Within  the  spendthrift  veins  of  a  dry  duke, 
A  parched  and  juiceless  luxur.     O  God  !  one, 
That  has  scarce  blood  enough,  to  live  upon ;  lo 

And  he  to  riot  it,  like  a  son  and  heir  ! 
O,  the  thought  of  that 
Turns  my  abused  heart-strings  into  fret." 
Thou  sallow  picture  of  my  poisoned  love, 

[Views  the  skull  in  his  hand. 
My  study's  ornament,  thou  shell  of  death, 
Once  the  bright  face  of  my  betrothed  lady, 
When  hfe  and  beauty  naturally  filled  out 
These  ragged  imperfections ; 
When  two  heaven-pointed  diamonds  were  set 

339 


340  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

In  those  unsightly  rings  —  then  'twas  a  face  20 

So  far  beyond  the  artificial  shine 

Of  any  woman's  bought  complexion, 

That  the  uprightest  man  (if  such  there  be, 

That  sin  but  seven  times  a  day)  °  broke  custom, 

And  made  up  eight  with  looking  after  her. 

O,  she  was  able  to  ha'  made  a  usurer's  son 

Melt  all  his  patrimony  in  a  kiss ; 

And  what  his  father  fifty  years  told. 

To  have  consumed,  and  yet  his  suit  been  cold. 

But,  O  accursed  palace!  30 

Thee,  when  thou  wert  apparelled  in  thy  flesh, 

The  old  duke  poisoned. 

Because  thy  purer  part  would  not  consent 

Unto  his  palsied  lust ;  for  old  men  lustful 

Do  show  like  young  men  angry,  eager,  violent, 

Outbidden  "  like  their  limited  performances. 

O,  'ware  an  old  man  hot  and  vicious  ! 

"Age,  as  in  gold,  in  lust  is  covetous." 

Vengeance,  thou  murder's  quit-rent,  and  whereby 

Thou  show'st  thyself  tenant  to  tragedy ;  40 

O  keep  thy  day,  hour,  minute,  I  beseech, 

For  those  thou  hast  determined.    Hum  !  who  e'er  knew 

Murder  unpaid  ?  faith,  give  revenge  her  due, 

She  has  kept  touch  °  hitherto  :  be  merry,  merry, 

Advance  thee,  O  thou  terror  to  fat  folks, 

To  have  their  costly  three-piled  flesh  "  worn  off 

As  bare  as  this ;  for  banquets,  ease,  and  laughter 

Can  make  great  men,  as  greatness  goes  by  clay ; 

But  wise  men  little  are  more  great  than  they. 

Enter  Hippolito 

Hip.    Still  sighing  o'er  death's  vizard  ? 
Ven.  Brother,  welcome ! 

What  comfort  bring'st  thou  ?  how  go  things  at  court  ?    51 
Hip.   In  silk  and  silver,  brother :  never  braver. 


SCENE  I]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  341 

Ven.  Pooh ! 

Thou  play'st  upon  my  meaning.     Prithee,  say, 
Has  that  bald  madam.  Opportunity," 
Yet  thought  upon's  ?  speak,  are  we  happy  yet  ? 
Thy  wrongs  and  mine  are  for  one  scabbard  fit. 

Hip.   It  may  prove  happiness. 

Ven.  What  is't  may  prove  ? 

Give  me  to  taste. 

Hip.  Give  me  your  hearing,  then. 

You  know  my  place  at  court  ? 

Ven.  Aye,  the  duke's  chamber  ! 

But  'tis  a  marvel  thou'rt  not  turned  out  yet !  60 

Hip.   Faith,  I've  been  shoved  at ;  but 'twas  still  my  hap 
To  hold  by  the  duchess'  skirt :  you  guess  at  that : 
Whom  such  a  coat "  keeps  up,  can  ne'er  fall  flat. 
But  to  the  purpose  — - 
Last  evening,  predecessor  unto  this, 
The  duke's  son  warily  inquired  for  me, 
Whose  pleasure  I  attended  :  he  began 
By  policy  to  open  and  unhusk  me 
About  the  time  and  common  rumour : 
But  I  had  so  much  wit  to  keep  my  thoughts  7° 

.  Up  in  their  built  houses ;  yet  afforded  him 
An  idle  satisfaction  without  danger. 
But  the  whole  aim  and  scope  of  his  intent 
Ended  in  this :  conjuring  me  in  private 
To  seek  some  strange-digested  fellow  °  forth, 
Of  ill-contented  nature ;  either  disgraced 
In  former  times,  or  by  new  grooms  displaced. 
Since  his  stepmother's  nuptials ;  such  a  blood, 
A  man  that  were  for  evil  only  good  — 
To  give  you  the  true  word,  some  base-coined  pander.      80 

Ven.   I  reach  you ;  for  I  know  liis  heat  is  such. 
Were  there  as  many  concubines  as  ladies, 
He  would  not  be  contained ;  he  must  fly  out. 
I  wonder  how  ill-featured,  vile-proportioned, 
That  one  should  be,  if  she  were  made  for  woman, 


342  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

Whom,  at  the  insurrection  of  his  lust, 
He  would  refuse  for  once.     Heart !     I  think  none. 
Next  to  a  skull,  though  more  unsound  than  one, 
Each  face  he  meets  he  strongly  dotes  upon. 

Hip.    Brother,  y'  have  truly  spoke  him.  go 

He  knows  not  you,  but  I  will  swear  you  know  him. 

Ven.   And  therefore  I'll  put  on  that  knave  for  once, 
And  be  a  right  man  then,  a  man  o'  the  time ; 
For  to  be  honest  is  not  to  be  i'  the  world. 
Brother,  I'll  be  that  strange-composed  fellow. 

Hip.   And  I'll  prefer  you,  brother. 

Ven.  Go  to,  then : 

The  smallest  advantage  fattens  wronged  men  : 
It  may  point  out  Occasion ;  if  I  meet  her, 
I'll  hold  her  by  the  foretop"  fast  enough ; 
Or,  like  the  French  mole,  heave  up  hair  and  all.  loo 

I  have  a  habit  that  will  fit  it  quaintly. 
Here  comes  our  mother. 

Hip.  And  sister. 

Ven.  We  must  coin  : 

Women  are  apt,  you  know,  to  take  false  money ;  ° 
But  I  dare  stake  my  soul  for  these  two  creatures ; 
Only  excuse  excepted,  that  they'll  swallow, 
Because  their  sex  is  easy  in  belief. 

Enter  Gratiana  and  Castiza 

Gra.   What  news  from  court,  son  Carlo  ? 

Hip.  Faith,  mother, 

'Tis  whispered  there  the  duchess'  youngest  son 
Has  played  a  rape  on  lord  Antonio's  wife. 

Gra.   On  that  religious  lady  !  no 

Cas.   Royal  blood  monster  !  he  deserves  to  die. 
If  Italy  had  no  more  hopes  but  he. 

Ven.    Sister,  y'  have  sentenced  most  direct  and  true, 
The  law's  a  woman,"  and  would  she  were  you. 
Mother,  I  must  take  leave  of  you. 


SCENE  II]         THE    REVENGEK^S   TRAGEDY  343 

Gra.   Leave  for  what  ? 

Ven.  I  intend  speedy  travel. 

in  p.   That  he  does,  niadam. 

Gra.  Speedy  indeed  ! 

Ven.    For  since  my  worthy  father's  funeral,. 
My  life's  unnaturally  to  me,  e'en  compelled ; 
As  if  I  lived  now,  when  I  should  be  dead.  120 

Gra.   Indeed,  he  was  a  worthy  gentleman. 
Had  his  estate  been  fellow  to  his  mind. 

Ven.   The  duke  did  much  deject  him. 

Gra.  Much  ? 

Ven.  Too  much : 

And  though  disgrace  oft  smothered  in  his  spirit, 
When  it  would  mount,  surely  I  think  he  died 
Of  discontent,  the  noble  man's  consumption. 

Gra.   Most  sure  he  did. 

Ven.  Did  he,  'lack  ?  you  know  all :  — 

You  were  his  midnight  secretary. 

Gra.  No. 

He  was  too  A\ase  to  trust  me  \vith  his  thoughts. 

Ven.   I'  faith,  then,  father,  thou  wast  wise  indeed  ;    130 
"Wives  are  but  made  to  go  to  bed  and  feed." 
Come,  mother,  sister :  you'll  bring  me  onward,  brother  ? 

Hip.   Ixvill. 

Ven.   [Aside.]  (TU  quickly  turn  into  anothef^j 

~" ■ ''    [Exeunt. 

Scene  II 

A  Hall  of  Justice 

Enter  the  Duke,  Lussurioso,  the  Duchess,  Spurio, 
Ambitioso,  and  Supervacuo;  the  Duchess'  Young- 
est Son  brought  out  by  Officers.     Tivo  Judges 

Duke.   Duchess,  it  is  your  youngest  son,  we're  sorry 
His  \'iolent  act  has  e'en  drawn  blood  of  honour, 


344  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

And  stained  our  honours ; 
Thrown  ink  upon  the  forehead  of  our  state ; 
vj  Which  envious  spirits  will  dip  their  pens  into 
After  our  death ;  and  blot  us  in  our  tombs : 
For  that  which  would  seem  treason  in  our  lives 
Is  laughter,  when  we're  dead.     Who  dares  now  whisper, 
That  dares  not  then  speak  out,  and  e'en  proclaim 
With  loud  words  and  broad  pens  our  closest  shame  ?       lo 

ist  Judge.   Your  grace  hath  spoke  like  to  your  silver 
years. 
Full  of  confirmed  gravity ;  for  what  is  it  to  have 
A  flattering  false  insculption  on  a  tomb. 
And  in  men's  hearts  reproach  ?  the  bowelled  corpse 
May  be  seared  in,  but  (with  free  tongue  I  speak) 
The    faults    of    great    men    through    their    cere-cloths 
break. 

Duke.   They  do  ;  we're  sorry  for't :  it  is  our  fate 
To  live  in  fear,  and  die  to  live  in  hate. 
I  leave  him  to  your  sentence ;  doom  him,  lords  — 
The  fact  is  great  —  whilst  I  sit  by  and  sigh.  20 

Dtich.    My  gracious  lord,  I  pray  be  merciful : 
Although  his  trespass  far  exceed  his  years, 
Think  him  to  be  your  own,  as  I  am  yours ; 
Call  him  not  son-in-law  :  the  law,  I  fear, 
Will  fall  too  soon  upon  his  name  and  him : 
Temper  his  fault  with  pity. 

Lus.  Good  my  lord, 

Then  'twill  not  taste  so  bitter  and  unpleasant 
Upon  the  judges'  palate  ;  for  offences. 
Gilt  o'er  with  mercy,  show  like  fairest  women, 
Good  only  for  their  beauties,  which  washed  off,  30 

No  sin  is  uglier. 

Amb.  I  beseech  your  grace. 

Be  soft  and  mild  ;  let  not  relentless  law 
Look  with  an  iron  forehead  on  our  brother. 

Spu.   [Aside.]   He  yields  small  comfort  yet;  hope  he 
shall  die ; 


SCENE  II]        THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  345 

And  if  a  bastard's  wish  might  stand  in  force, 
Would  all  the  court  were  turned  into  a  corse  ! 

Duch.   No  pity  yet  ?  must  I  rise  fruitless  then  ? 
A  wonder  in  a  woman  !  are  my  knees 
Of  such  low  metal,  that  without  respect  — 

1st  Judge.   Let  the  offender  stand  forth :  4° 

'Tis  the  duke's  pleasure  that  impartial  doom 
Shall  take  fast  hold  of  his  unclean  attempt. 
A  rape  !  why  'tis  the  very  core  of  lust  — 
Double  adultery. 

r.  Son.  So,  sir.° 

2nd  Judge.  And  which  was  worse, 

Committed  on  the  lord  Antonio's  wife, 
That  general-honest  lady.     Confess,  my  lord, 
What  moved  you  to't  ? 

I'.  Son.  Why,  flesh  and  blood,  my  lord  ; 

Wliat  should  move  men  unto  a  woman  else  ? 

Liis.   O,  do  not  jest  thy  doom  !  trust  not  an  ax 
Or  sword  too  far :  the  law  is  a  wise  serpent,  5° 

And  quickly  can  beguile  thee  of  thy  Ufe. 
Though  marriage  only  has  made  thee  my  brother, 
I  love  thee  so  far :  play  not  with  thy  death. 

I'.  Son.   I  thank  you,  troth;   good  admonitions,  faith, 
If  I'd  the  grace  now  to  make  use  of  them. 

ist  Judge.   That  lady's  name  °  has  spread  such  a  fair 
wing 
Over  all  Italy,  that  if  our  tongues 
Were  sparing  toward  the  fact,  judgement  itself 
Would  be  condemned,  and  suffer  in  men's  thoughts. 

F.  Son.   Well  then,  'tis  done ;   and  it  would  please  me 
well,  .  60 

Were  it  to  do  again  :  sure,  she's  a  goddess, 
For  I'd  no  power  to  see  her,  and  to  live. 
It  falls  out  true  in  this,  for  I  must  die ; 
Her  beauty  was  ordained  to  be  my  scaffold. 
And  yet,  methinks,  I  might  be  easier  'sessed :  '^ 
My  fault  being  sport,  let  me  but  die  in  jest. 


346  THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

ist  Judge.   This  be  the  sentence  — 

Duch.   O,  keep't  upon  your  tongue ;  let  it  not  sHp ; 
Death  too  soon  steals  out  of  a  lawyer's  lip. 
Be  not  so  cruel- wise  ! 

ist  Judge.  Your  grace  must  pardon  us ;       70 

'Tis  but  the  justice  of  the  law. 

Duch.  The  law 

Is  grown  more  subtle  than  a  woman  should  be. 

Spu.    [Aside.]   Now,  now  he  dies  !  rid  'em  away. 

Duch.    [Aside]   O,  what  it  is  to  have  an  old  cool  duke, 
To  be  as  slack  in  tongue  as  in  performance  !  " 

\st  Judge.    Confirmed,  this  be  the  doom  irrevocable. 

Duch.   O! 

1st  Judge.   To-morrow  early  — 

Duch.  Pray  be  abed,  my  lord. 

1st  Judge.   Your  grace  much  wrongs  yourself. 

Amb.  No,  'tis  that  tongue  : 

Your  too  much  right  does  do  us  too  much  wrong.  So 

1st  Judge.   Let  that  offender  — 

Duch.  Live,  and  be  in  health. 

1st  Judge.   Be  on  a  scaffold  — 

Duke.  Hold,  hold,  my  lord  ! 

Spu.    [Aside.]   Pox  on't,  v. 

What  makes  my  dad  speak  now  ? 

Duke.   We  will  defer  the  judgement  till  next  sitting : 
Li  the  meantime,  let  him  be  kept  close  prisoner. 
Guard,  bear  him  hence. 

Amh.    [Aside.]  Brother,  this  makes  for  thee ; 

Fear  not,  we'll  have  a  trick  to  set  thee  free. 

Y.  Son.    [Aside]   Brother,  I  will  expect  it  from  you 
both ; 
And  in  that  hope  I  rest. 

Sup.  Farewell,  be  merry.  9° 

[Exit  with  a  Guard. 

Spu.   Delayed  !  deferred  !  nay  then,  if  judgement  have 
cold  blood. 
Flattery  and  bribes  will  kill  it. 


SCENE  II]        THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  347 

Duke.   About  it,  then,  my  lords,  with  your  best  pow- 
ers : 
More  serious  business  calls  upon  our  hours. 

{Exeunt,  excepting  the  Duchess. 

Duck.   Was't  ever  known  step-duchess  was  so  mild 
And  calm  as  I  ?  some  now  would  plot  his  death 
With  easy  doctors,"  those  loose-living  men, 
And  make  his  withered  grace  fall  to  his  grave, 
And  keep  church  better." 

Some  second  wife  "  would  do  this,  and  dispatch  100 

Her  double-loathed  lord  at  meat  or  sleep. 
Indeed,  'tis  true,  an  old  man's  twice  a  child ; 
Mine  cannot  speak  ;  one  of  liis  single  words 
Would  quite  have  freed  my  youngest  dearest  son 
From  death  or  durance,  and  have  made  him  walk 
With  a  bold  foot  upon  the  thorny  law, 
Whose  prickles  should  bow  under  him  ;  but  'tis  not, 
And  therefore  wedlock-faith  shall  be  forgot : 
I'll  kill  him  in  his  forehead ; "  hate,  there  feed ; 
That  wound  is  deepest,  though  it  never  bleed.  "o 

And  here  comes  he  whom  my  heart  points  unto. 
His  bastard  son,  but  my  love's  true-begot ; 
Many  a  wealthy  letter  have  I  sent  him. 
Swelled  up  with  jewels,  and  the  timorous  man 
Is  yet  but  coldly  kind. 
That  jewel's  mine  that  quivers  in  his  ear," 
Mocking  his  master's  chillness  and  vain  fear. 
He  has  spied  me  now  ! 

Enter  Spurio 

Spu.  Madam,  your  grace  so  private  ? 

My  duty  on  your  hand. 

Duch.    Upon  my  hand,  sir  !  troth,  I  think  you'd  fear 
To  kiss  my  hand  too,  if  my  lip  stood  there.  12' 

Spu.   Witness  I  would  not,  madam.  [Kisses  her. 

Duch.  'Tis  a  wonder ; 


348  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

For  ceremony  has  made  many  fools  ! 

It  is  as  easy  way  unto  a  duchess, 

As  to  a  hatted  dame,"  if  her  love  answer : 

But  thaf^  by  timorous  honours,  pale  respects, 

Idle  degrees  of  fear,  men  make  their  ways 

Hard  of  themselves.     What,  have  you  thought  of  me  ? 

Spu.   Madam,  I  ever  think  of  you  in  duty. 
Regard,  and  — 

Duch.  Pooh  !  upon  my  love,  I  mean.  130 

Spu.   I  would  'twere  love ;  but  'tis  a  fouler  name 
Than  lust :  you  are  my  father's  wife  —  your  grace  may 

guess  now 
What  I  could  call  it. 

Duch.  Why,  th'  art  his  son  but  falsely  ; 

'Tis  a  hard  question  whether  he  begot  thee. 

Spu.   V  faith,  'tis  true  :  I'm  an  uncertain  man 
Of  more  uncertain  woman.     Maybe,  his  groom 
O'  the  stable  begot  me ;  you  know  I  know  not ! 
He  could  ride  a  horse  well,  a  shrewd  susjjicion,  marry  !  — 
He  was  wondrous  tall :  he  had  his  length,  i'  faith. 
For  peeping  over  half-shut  hohday  windows,"  140 

Men  would  desire  him  light.     When  he  was  afoot 
He  made  a  goodly  show  under  a  penthouse ; 
And  when  he  rid,  his  hat  would  check  the  signs, 
And  clatter  barbers'  basins." 

Duch.   Nay,  set  you  a-horseback  once, 
You'll  ne'er  light  off." 

Spu.  Indeed,  I  am  a  beggar. 

Duch.   That's  the  more  sign  thou'rt  great.  — 
But  to  our  love : 

Let  it  stand  firm  both  in  thy  thought  and  mind, 
That  the  duke  was  thy  father,  as  no  doubt  "  then  150 

He  bid  fair  for't  —  thy  injury  is  the  more ; 
For  had  he  cut  thee  a  right  diamond, 
Thou  had'st  been  next  set  in  the  dukedom's  ring, 
When  his  worn  self,  like  age's  easy  slave. 
Had  dropped  out  of  the  collet "  into  th'  grave. 


SCENE  II]        THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  349 

What  wrong  can  equal  this  ?  canst  thou  be  tame, 
And  think  upon't  ? 

Spu.  No,  mad,  and  think  upon't. 

Duch.   Who  would  not  be  revenged  of  such  a  father, 
E'en  in  the  worst  way  ?     I  would  thank  that  sin. 
That  could  most  injure  him,  and  be  in  league  with  it.     160 
O,  what  a  grief  'tis  that  a  man  should  live 
But  once  i'  the  world,  and  then  to  live  a  bastard  — 
The  curse  o'  the  womb,  the  thief  of  nature, 
Begot  against  the  seventh  commandment. 
Half-damned  in  the  conception  by  the  justice 
Of  that  unbribed  everlasting  law. 

Spu.   O,  I'd  a  hot-backed  devil  to  my  father. 

Duch.   Would  not  this  mad  e'en  patience,  make  blood 
rough  ?  ° 
Who  but  an  eunuch  would  not  sin  ?  his  bed. 
By  one  false  minute  disinherited.  170 

Spu.   Aye,  there's  the  vengeance  that  my  birth  was 
wrapped  in  ! 
I'll  be  revenged  for  all :  now,  hate,  begin  ; 
I'll  call  foul  incest  but  a  venial  sin. 

Duch.    Cold  still !  in  vain  then  must  a  duchess  woo  ? 

Spu.    iVIadam,  I  blush  to  say  what  I  will  do. 

Duch.   Thence    flew    sweet    comfort.     Earnest,    and 
farewell."  [Kisses  hwi. 

Spu.   O,  one  incestuous  kiss  picks  open  hell. 

Duch.   Faith,    now,    old    duke,    my    vengeance   shall 
reach  high, 
I'll  arm  thy  brow  with  woman's  heraldry."  [Exit. 

Spu.   Duke,  thou  didst  do  me  wrong ;  and,  liy  thy  act 
Adultery  is  my  nature.  181 

Faith,  if  the  truth  were  known,  I  was  begot 
After  some  gluttonous  dinner ;  some  stirring  dish 
Was  my  first  father,  when  deep  healths  went  round. 
And  ladies'  cheeks  were  painted  red  with  wine. 
Their  tongues,  as  short  and  nimble  as  their  heels, 
Uttering  words  sweet  and  thick ;  and  when  they  rose, 


350  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

Were  merrily  disposed  to  fall  again. 

In  such  a  whispering  and  withdrawing  hour, 

When  base  male-bawds  kept  sentinel  at  stair-head,        19° 

Was  I  stol'n  softly.     O  damnation  meet ! 

The  sin  of  feasts,  drunken  adultery  ! 

I  feel  it  swell  me ;  my  revenge  is  just ! 

I  was  begot  in  impudent  wine  and  lust. 

Stepmother,  I  consent  to  thy  desires ; 

I  love  thy  mischief  well ;  but  I  hate  thee 

And  those  three  cubs  thy  sons,  washing  confusion, 

Death  and  disgrace  may  be  their  epitaphs. 

As  for  my  brother,  the  duke's  only  son, 

Whose  birth  is  more  beholding  to  report  °  200 

Than  mine,  and  yet  perhaps  as  falsely  sown 

(Women  must  not  be  trusted  with  their  own), 

I'll  loose  my  days  upon  him,  hate-all-I ; 

Duke,  on  thy  brow  I'll  draw  my  bastardy : 

For  indeed  a  bastard  by  nature  should  make  cuckolds. 

Because  he  is  the  son  of  a  cuckold-maker.  [Exit. 

Scene  III 

A  Part  of  the  City 

Enter  Vendice  in  disguise  and  Hippolito 

Ven.   What,  brother,  am  I  far  enough  from  myself  ? 
y          Hip.   As  if  another  man  had  been  sent  whole 
Into  the  world,  and  none  wist  how  he  came. 

Ven.   It  will  confirm  me  bold  —  the  child  o'  the  court ; 
Let  blushes  dwell  i'  the  country.     Impudence  ! 
Thou  goddess  of  the  palace,  mistress  of  mistresses, 
To  whom  the  costly  perfumed  people  pray, 
Strike  thou  my  forehead  into  dauntless  marble, 
Mine  eyes  to  steady  sapphires.     Turn  my  visage ; 
And,  if  I  must  needs  glow,  let  me  blush  inward,  10 

That  this  immodest  season  may  not  spy 


SCENE  in]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  351 

That  scholar  "  in  my  checks,  fool  bashfulness ; 
That  maid  in  the  old  time,  whose  flush  of  grace 
Would  never  suffer  her  to  get  good  clothes. 
Our  maids  are  wiser,  and  are  less  ashamed ; 
Save  Grace  the  bawd,"  I  seldom  hear  grace  named  ! 

Hip.  Nay,  brother,  you  reach  out  o'  the  verge  now" — • 
'Sfoot,  the  duke's  son  !  settle  your  looks. 

Vcn.   Pray,  let  me  not  be  doubted. 

Hip.  My  lord  — 

Enter  LussuRioso 

Lus.   Hippolito  —  be  absent,  leave  us  !  20 

Hip.    My  lord,  after  long  search,  wary  inquiries, 
And  politic  siftings,  I  made  choice  of  yon  fellow, 
Whom  I  guess  rare  for  many  deep  employments : 
This  our  age  swims  within  him ;  and  if  Time 
Had  so  much  V  air,  I  should  take  him  for  Time," 
He  is  so  near  kin  to  this  present  minute. 

Lus.    'Tis  enough ; 
We  thank  thee :  yet  words  are  but  great  men's  blanks ; 
Gold,  though  it  be  dumb,  does  utter  the  best  thanks. 

[Gives  him  money. 

Hip.   Your  plenteous  honour !    an   excellent   fellow, 
my  lord.  3° 

Lus.  So,  give  us  leave.  [Exit  Hippoijto.]  Welcome, 
be  not  far  oflf ;  we  must  be  better  acquainted :  pish,  be 
bold  with  us  —  thy  hand. 

Ven.   With  all  my  heart,  i'  faith :    how  dost,  sweet 
musk-cat  ? 
When  shall  we  lie  together  ? 

Lus.    [Aside.]  Wondrous  knave. 

Gather  him  into  boldness  !  "  'sfoot,  the  slave's 
Already  as  familiar  as  an  ague, 
And  shakes  me  "  at  his  pleasure.  —  Friend,  I  can 
Forget  myself  in  private ;  but  elsewhere 
I  pray  do  you  remember  me. 


352  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

Ven.  O,  very  well,  sir  — 

I  conster  myself  saucy. 

Lus.  What  hast  been  ?  41 

Of  what  profession  ? 

Ven.  A  bone-setter. 

Lus.   A  bone-setter ! 

Ven.  A  bawd,  my  lord  — 

One  that  sets  bones  together. 

Lus.  Notable  bluntness ! 

Fit,  fit  for  me ;  e'en  trained  up  to  my  hand : 
Thou  hast  been  scrivener  to  much  knavery,  then  ? 

Ven.    'Sfoot,  to  abundance,  sir :  I  have  been  witness 
To  the  surrenders  of  a  thousand  virgins : 
And  not  so  little ;  ° 

I  have  seen  patrimonies  washed  a-pieces,°  50 

Fruit-fields  turned  into  bastards, 
And  in  a  world  of  acres 

Not  so  much  dust  due  to  the  heir  'twas  left  to 
As  would  well  gravel  a  petition." 

Lus.    [Aside.]    Fine  villain  !    troth,   I   like  him  won- 
drously : 
He's  e'en  shaped  for  my  purpose.' —  Then  thou  know'st 
I'  th'  world  strange  lust  ? 

Ven.  O  Dutch  lust !  fulsome  lust ! 

Drunken  procreation  !  which  begets 
So  many  drunkards.     Some  fathers  dread  not 
(Gone  to  bed  in  wine)  to  slide  from  the  mother,  60 

And  cling  the  daughter-in-law ; 
Some  uncles  are  adulterous  with  their  nieces : 
Brothers  with  brothers'  wives.     O  hour  of  incest ! 
Any  kin  now,  next  to  the  rim  o'  th'  sister. 
Is  men's  meat  in  these  days ;  and  in  the  morning, 
When  they  are  up  and  dressed,  and  their  mask  on, 
Who  can  perceive  this,  save  that  eternal  eye. 
That  sees  through  flesh  and  all  ?     Well,  if  anything  be 

damned. 
It  will  be  twelve  o'clock  at  night ;  that  twelve 


SCENE  III]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  353 

Will  never  scape ;  70 

It  is  the  Judas  of  the  hours,  wherein 
Honest  salvation  is  betrayed  to  sin. 

Lus.   In  troth,  it  is  true ;  but  let  this  talk  glide. 
It  is  our  blood  to  err,  though  hell  gape  wide. 
Ladies  know  Lucifer  fell,  yet  still  are  proud. 
Now,  sir,  wert  thou  as  secret  as  thou'rt  subtle. 
And  deeply  fathomed  into  all  estates," 
I  would  embrace  thee  for  a  near  employment ; 
And  thou  shouldst  swell  in  money,  and  be  able 
To  make  lame  beggars  crouch  to  thee. 

Ven.  My  lord,  80 

Secret !     I  ne'er  had  that  disease  o'  the  mother, 
I  praise  my  father :  why  are  men  made  close. 
But  to  keep  thoughts  in  best  ?     I  grant  you  this. 
Tell  but  some  women  a  secret  over  night. 
Your  doctor  may  find  it  in  the  urinal  i'  the  morning. 
But,  my  lord  — 

Lus.  So  thou'rt  confirmed  in  me,  X 

And  thus  I  enter  thee."  [Gives  him  money. 

Ven.  This  Indian  devil"  X 

Will  quickly  enter  any  man  but  a  usurer ; 
He  prevents  that  by  entering  the  devil  first. 

Lus.   Attend  me.     I  am  past  my  depth  in  lust,  90 

And  I  must  swim  or  drown.     All  my  desires 
Are  levelled  at  a  virgin  not  far  from  court, 
To  whom  I  have  conveyed  by  messenger 
Many  waxed  lines,"  full  of  my  neatest  spirit, 
And  jewels  that  were  able  to  ravish  her 
Without  the  help  of  man ;  all  which  and  more 
She  (foolish  chaste)  sent  back,  the  messengers 
Recei\dng  frowns  for  answers. 

Ven.  Possible ! 

'Tis  a  rare  Phoenix,"  whoe'er  she  be. 

If  your  desires  be  such,  she  so  repugnant,  100 

In  troth,  my  lord,  I'd  l)e  revenged  and  marry  her. 

Lus.   Pish  !  the  dowry  of  her  blood  and  of  her  fortunes 


354  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  i 

Are  both  too  mean  —  good  enough  to  be  bad  withal. 
I'm  one  of  that  number  can  defend 
Marriage  is  good  ;  "  yet  rather  keep  a  friend. 
Give  me  my  bed  by  stealth  —  there's  true  delight ; 
What  breeds  a  loathing  in't,  but  night  by  night ! 

Ven.   A  very  fine  religion  ! 

Lus.  Therefore  thus 

I'll  trust  thee  in  the  business  of  my  heart ; 
Because  I  see  thee  well-experienced  no 

In  this  luxurious  day  wherein  we  breathe. 
Go  thou,  and  with  a  smooth  enchanting  tongue 
Bewitch  her  ears,  and  cozen  her  of  all  grace : 
X   Enter  upon  the  portion  of  her  soul  — 
Her  honour,  which  she  calls  her  chastity,"^ 
And  bring  it  into  expense ;  °  for  honesty 
Is  like  a  stock  of  money  laid  to  sleep  ° 
Which,  ne'er  so  little  broke,  does  never  keep. 

Ven.   You  have  gi'en't  the  tang,"  i'  faith,  my  lord : 
Make  known  the  lady  to  me;  and  my  brain  120 

Shall  swell  wdth  strange  invention  :  I  will  move  it, 
Till  I  expire  with  speaking,  and  drop  down 
Without  a  word  to  save  me  —  but  I'll  work  — 

Lus.   We  thank  thee,  and  will  raise  thee.  — 
Receive  her  name ;  it  is  the  only  daughter  to  Madam 
Gratiana,  the  late  widow. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   0  my  sister,  my  sister  ! 

Lus.  Why  dost  walk  aside  ? 

Ven.    My  lord,  I  was  thinking  how  I  might  begin  : 
As  thus,  0  lady  —  or  twenty  hundred  devices  —         .  i 
X     Her  very  bodkin  will  put  a  man  in.°  -  ?    v-  -^  -"^  7)viv\  '^\3o 

Lus.   Aye,  or  the  wagging  of  her  hair. 

Ven.   No,  that  shall  put  you  in,  my  lord. 

Lus.   Shall't  ?  why,  content.    Dost  know  the  daughter 
then? 

Ven.   O,  excellent  well  by  sight. 

Lus.  That  was  her  brother, 

That  did  prefer  thee  to  us. 


SCENE  III]       THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  355 

Ven.  My  lord,  I  think  so ; 

I  knew  I  had  seen  him  somewhere  — 

Lus.   And  therefore,  prythee,  let  thy  heart  to  him 
Be  as  a  virgin  close. 

Ven.  O  my  good  lord. 

Lus.   We  may  laugh  at  that  simple  age  within  him. 

Ven.   Ha,  ha,  ha  !  140 

Ltis.   Himself  being  made  the  subtle  instrument. 
To  wind  up  a  good  fellow. 

Ven.  That's  I,  my  lord. 

Lus.  That's  thou, 

To  entice  and  work  his  sister. 

Ven.  A  pure  novice  ! 

Lus.    'Twas  finely  managed. 

Ven.  Gallantly  carried  I 

A  pretty  perfumed  \dllain  ! 

Lus.  I've  bethought  me, 

If  she  prove  chaste  still  and  immovable. 
Venture  upon  the  mother  ;  and  with  gifts, 
As  I  will  furnish  thee,  begin  \\dth  her. 

Ven.   0,  fie,  fie  !  that's  the  wrong  end  my  lord. 
'Tis  mere  impossible  that  a  mother,  by  any  gifts,  should 
become  a  bawd  to  her  own  daughter  !  151 

Lus.   Nay,  then,  I  see  thou'rt  but  a  puisne 
In  the  subtle  mystery  of  a  woman." 
Why,  'tis  held  now  no  dainty  dish  :  the  name 
Is  so  in  league  ^^'ith  the  age,  that  nowadays 
It  does  eclipse  three  quarters  of  a  mother. 

Ven.   Does  it  so,  my  lord  ? 
Let  me  alone,  then,  to  eclipse  the  fourth. 

Lus.   Why,   well  said  —  come,   I'll   furnish   thee,   but 
first 
Swear  to  be  true  in  all. 

Ven.  True ! 

Lus.  Nay,  but  swear. 

Ven.  Swear? —    160 

I  hope  your  honour  little  doubts  my  faith. 


356  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  •   [act  i 

Lus.   Yet,  for  my  humour's  sake,  'cause  I  love  swear- 
ing — 

Ven.   'Cause  you  love  swearing,  —  'slud,  I  will. 

Lus.  Why,  enough ! 

Ere  long  look  to  be  made  of  better  stuff. 

Ven.   That  will  do  well  indeed,  my  lord. 

Lus.  Attend  me.   [Exit. 

Ven.  O ! 

y.    Now  let  me  burst.     I've  eaten  noble  j)ois_on ; 

We  are  made  strange  fellows,  brother,  innocent  villains  ! 
Wilt  not   be  angry,   when  thou   hear'st  on't,   think'st 

thou? 
I'  faith,  thou  shalt :  swear  me  to  foul  my  sister  ! 
y  Sword,  I  durst  make  a  promise  of  him  to  thee ;  170 

Thou  shalt  disheir  him ;  it  shall  be  thine  honour. 
And  yet,  now  angry  froth  is  down  in  me. 
It  would  not  prove  the  meanest  policy. 
In  this  disguise,  to  try  the  faith  of  both. 
Another  might  have  had  the  selfsame  office ; 
Some  slave  that  would  have  wrought  effectually, 
Aye,  and  perhaps  o'erwrought  'em  ;  therefore  I, 
Being  thought-travelled,  will  apply  myself 
Unto  the  selfsame  form,  forget  my  nature, 
As  if  no  part  about  me  were  kin  to  'em,  180 

So  touch  em  ;  —  though  I  durst  almost  for  good 
Venture  my  lands  in  Heaven  upon  their  blood.        [Exit. 

Scene  IV 

A  Room  in  Antonio's  House 

Enter  Antonio,  whose  Wife  the  Duchess'  Youngest 
Son  ravished,  discovering  her  dead  body  to  Hippolito, 
PiERO,  and  Lords 

Ant.   Draw  nearer,  lords,  and  be  sad  witnesses 
Of  a  fair  comely  building  newly  fallen, 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  357 

Being  falsely  undermined.     Violent  rape 
Has  played  a  glorious  act :  behold,  my  lords, 
A  sight  that  strikes  man  out  of  me. 

Piero.   That  virtuous  lady  ! 

Ant.  Precedent  for  wives  ! 

Hip.   The  blush  of  many  women,  whose  chaste  pres- 
ence 
Would  e'en  call  shame  up  to  their  cheeks,  and  make 
Pale  wanton  sinners  have  good  colours  — 

Ant.  Dead! 

Her  honour  first  drank  poison,  and  her  life,  10 

Being  fellows  in  one  house,  did  pledge  her  honour. 

Piero.   0,  grief  of  many  ! 

A  nt.  I  marked  not  this  before  — 

A  prayer-book,  the  pillow  to  her  cheek  : 
This  was  her  rich  confection  ;  and  another 
Placed  in  her  right  hand,  with  a  leaf  tucked  up. 
Pointing  to  these  words  — 
Melius  virtute  niori,  quani  per  dedecus  vivere :  ° 
True  and  effectual  it  is  indeed. 

Hip.   My  lord,  since  you  invite  us  to  your  sorrows, 
Let's  truly  taste  'em,  that  with  equal  comfort,  20 

As  to  ourselves,  we  may  relieve  your  wrongs  : 
We  have  grief  too,  that  yet  walks  without  tongue ; 
Curce  leves  loquuntur,  maiores  stupent." 

Ant.   You  deal  with  truth,"  my  lord ; 
Lend  me  but  your  attentions,  and  I'll  cut 
Long  grief  into  short  words.     Last  revelling  night, 
When  torch-light  made  an  artificial  noon 
About  the  court,  some  courtiers  in  the  masque, 
Putting  on  better  faces  than  their  own, 
Being  full  of  fraud  and  flattery  —  amongst  whom  3° 

The  duchess'  youngest  son  (that  moth  to  honour) 
Filled  up  a  room,  and  with  long  lust  to  eat 
Into  my  warren,  amongst  all  the  ladies 
Singled  out  that  dear  form,  who  ever  lived 
As  cold  in  lust  as  she  is  now  in  death 


358  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  I 

(Which  that  step-duchess'  monster  knew  too  well), 

And  therefore  in  the  height  of  all  the  revels, 

When  music  was  heard  loudest,  courtiers  busiest. 

And  ladies  great  with  laughter  —  O  vicious  minute  ! 

Unfit  but  for  relation  to  be  spoke  of :  40 

Then  w^ith  a  face  more  impudent  than  his  vizard, 

He  harried  her  amidst  a  throng  of  panders. 

That  live  upon  damnation  of  both  kinds," 

And  fed  the  ravenous  vulture  of  his  lust. 

O  death  to  think  on't !     She,  her  honour  forced, 

Deemed  it  a  nobler  dowry  for  her  nariie 

To  die  with  poison  than  to  live  with  shame. 

Hip.   A  wondrous  lady  !  of  rare  fire  compact ;  ° 
She  has  made  her  name  an  empress  by  that  act. 

Piero.    My  lord,  what  judgement  follows  the  offender  ? 

Ant.    Faith,  none,  my  lord ;  it  cools,  and  is  deferred.  51 

Piero.   Delay  the  doom  for  rape  ! 

Ant.   O,  you  must  note  who  'tis  should  die, 
The  duchess'  son  !  she'll  look  to  be  a  saver ; 
"Judgement,  in  this  age,  is  near  kin  to  favour." 
f  Hip.   Nay,  then,  step  forth,  thou  bribeless  officer : 
/  [Draws  his  sword. 

I  I'll  bind  you  all  in  steel,  to  bind  you  surely ; 
1  Here  let  your  oaths  meet,  to  be  kept  and  paid, 
I  Which  else  will  stick  like  rust,  and  shame  the  blade ; 
Strengthen  my  vow  that  if,  at  the  next  sitting,  60 

/Judgement  speak  all  in  gold,  and  spare  the  blood 
Of  such  a  serpent,  e'en  before  their  seats 
To  let  his  soul  out,  which  long  since  was  found 
Guilty  in  Heaven  — 

All.  We  swear  it,  and  will  act  it. 

Ant.    Kind  gentlemen,  I  thank  you  in  mine  ire. 

Hip.  'Twere  pity 

The  ruins  of  so  fair  a  monument 
Should  not  be  dipped  in  the  defacer's  blood. 

Piero.   Her  funeral  shall  be  wealthy ;  for  her  name 
Merits  a  tomb  of  pearl.     My  lord  Antonio, 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVEN(;ER-S    TRA(;EDY  359 

For  Ihis  time  wipe  your  lady  from  your  eyes ;  70 

No  doubt  our  grief  and  yours  may  one  day  court  it, 
When  we  are  more  familiar  with  revenge. 

Ant.   That  is  my  comfort,  gentlemen,  and  I  joy 
In  this  one  happiness  above  the  rest. 
Which  will  be  called  a  miracle  at  last ; 
That,  being  an  old  man,  I'd  a  wife  so  chaste. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  THE  SECOND 

Scene  I 

A  Room  in  Gratiana's  House 

Enter  Castiza 

Cas.   How  hardly  shall  that  maiden  be  beset, 
Whose  only  fortunes  are  her  constant  thoughts  ! 
That  has  no  other  child's  part  but  her  honour, 
That  keeps  her  low  and  empty  in  estate  ; 
Maids  and  their  honours  are  like  poor  beginners ; 
Were  not  sin  rich,  there  would  be  fewer  sinners ; 
Why  had  not  virtue  a  revenue  ?     Well, 
I  know  the  cause,  'twould  have  impoverished  hell. 

Enter  Dondolo 

How  now,  Dondolo  ? 

Don.  Madonna,  there  is  one  as  they  say,  a  thing  of 
^esh  and  blood  —  a  man,  I  take  him  by  his  beard,  that 
would  very  desirously  mouth  to  mouth  with  you.  12 

Cas.    What's  that"? 

Don.    Show  his  teeth  in  your  company. 

Cas.   I  understand  thee  not. 

Don.   Why,  speak  with  you,  madonna. 

Cas.  Why,  say  so,  madman,  and  cut  off  a  great  deal  of 
dirty  way ;  had  it  not  been  better  si)oke  in  ordinary 
words,  that  one  would  speak  with  me  ? 

Don.  Ha,  ha  !  that's  as  ordinary  as  two  shillings.  I 
would  strive  a  little  to  show  myself  in  my  place;    a 

360 


SCENE  I]  THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  361 

■  gentleman-usher  scorns  to  use  the  phrase  and  fancy  of  a 

serving-man.  23 

Cas.   Yours  be  your  own,  sir ;  go,  direct  him  hither ; 

[Exit  DONDOLO. 

I  hope  some  happy  tidings  from  my  brother. 
That  lately  travelled,  whom  my  soul  affects. 
Here  he  comes. 

Enter  Vendice,  disguised 

Ven.   Lady,  the  best  of  wishes  to  your  sex  — 
Fair  skins  and  new  gowns. 

Cas.  0,  they  shall  thank  you,  sir. 

Whence  this  ? 

Ven.  0,  from  a  dear  and  worthy  mighty  friend. 

Cas.   From  whom  ? 

Ven.  The  duke's  son  ! 

Cas.  Receive  that.    [Boxes  his  ear. 

I  swore  I  would  put  anger  in  my  hand,  32 

And  pass  the  virgin  limits  of  my  sex, 
To  him  that  next  appeared  in  that  base  office, 
To  be  his  sin's  attorney.     Bear  to  him 
That  figure  of  my  hate  upon  thy  cheek, 
Whilst  'tis  yet  hot,  and  I'll  reward  thee  for't ; 
Tell  him  my  honour  shall  have  a  rich  name, 
When  several  harlots  shall  share  his  with  shame. 
Farewell ;   commend  me  to  him  in  my  hate.  [Exit. 

Ven.   It  is  the  sweetest  box  that  e'er  my  nose  came 
nigh ;  4^ 

The  finest  drawn- work  cuff  that  e'er  was  worn  ; 
I'll  love  this  blow  for  ever,  and  this  cheek 
Shall  still  henceforward  take  the  wall  "  of  this. 
O,  I'm  above  my  tongue :°  most  constant  sister, 
In  this  thou  hast  right  honourable  shown  ; 
Many  are  called  by  their  honour,  that  have  none ; 
Thou  art  approved  for  ever  in  my  thoughts. 
It  is  not  in  the  power  of  words  to  taint  thee. 


362  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

And  yet  for  the  salvation  of  my  oath,  5° 

As  my  resolve  in  that  point,  I  will  lay 

Hard  siege  unto  my  mother,  though  I  know 

A  siren's  tongue  could  not  bewitch  her  so. 

Mass,  fitly  here  she  comes  !  thanks,  my  disguise  — 

Madam,  good  afternoon. 

Enter  Gratiana 

Gra.  Y'are  welcome,  sir. 

Ven.   The  next  of  Italy  commends  him  to  you, 
Our  mighty  expectation,  the  duke's  son. 

Gra.   I  think  myself  much  honoured  that  he  pleases 
To  rank  me  in  his  thoughts. 

Ven.  So  may  you,  lady : 

One  that  is  like  to  be  our  sudden  duke ;  °  60 

The  crown  gapes  for  him  every  tide,"  and  then 
Commander  o'er  us  all ;  do  but  think  on  him. 
How  blessed  were  they,  now  that  could  pleasure  him  — 
E'en  with  anything  almost ! 

Gra.  Aye,  save  their  honour. 

Ven.   Tut,  one  would  let  a  little  of  that  go  too, 
And  ne'er  be  seen  in't  —  ne'er  be  seen  in't,  mark  you ; 
I'd  wink,  and  let  it  go. 

Gra.  Marry,  but  I  would  not. 

Venr.   Marry  but  I  would,  I  hope ;   I  know  you  would 
too. 
If  you'd  that  blood  now,  which  you  gave  your  daughter. 
To  her  indeed  'tis  this  wheel "  comes  about ;  7° 

That  man  that  must  be  all  this,  perhaps  ere  morning 
(For  his  white  father  does  but  mould  away). 
Has  long  desired  your  daughter. 

Gra.  Desired  ? 

Ven.  Nay,  but  hear  me ; 

He  desires  now,  that  will  command  hereafter  : 
Therefore  be  wise.     I  speak  as  more  a  friend 
To  you  than  him  :  madam,  I  know  you're  poor, 
And,  'lack  the  day  ! 


SCENE  I]         THE    REVENGER^S   TRAGEDY  363 

There  are  too  many  poor  ladies  already ; 

Why  should  you  wax  the  number  ?     'Tis  despised. 

Live  wealthy,  rightly  understand  the  world,  80 

And  chide  away  that  foolish  country  girl 

Keeps  com])any  with  your  daughter  —  Chastity. 

Gra.   O  lie,  fie  !  the  riches  of  the  world  cannot  hire 
A  mother  to  such  a  most  unnatural  task. 

Ven.   No,  but  a  thousand  angels  can. 
Men  have  no  power,  angels  must  work  you  to't : 
The  world  descends  into  such  baseborn  evils. 
That  forty  angels  can  make  fourscore  devils. 
There  will  be  fools  still,  I  perceive  —  still  fools. 
Would  I  be  poor,  dejected,  scorned  of  greatness,  90 

Swept  from  the  palace,  and  see  others'  daughters 
Spring  with  the  dew  o'  the  court,  having  mine  own 
So  much  desired  and  loved  by  the  duke's  son  ? 
No,  I  would  raise  my  state  upon  her  breast ; 
And  call  her  eyes  my  tenants ;  I  would  count 
My  yearly  maintenance  upon  her  cheeks ; 
Take  coach  upon  her  lip ;  and  all  her  parts 
Should  keep  men  after  men,°  and  I  would  ride 
In  pleasure  upon  pleasure. 

You  took  great  pains  for  her,  once  when  it  was ;  100 

Let  her  requite  it  now,  though  it  be  but  some. 
You  brought  her  forth  :  she  may  well  bring  you  home. 

Gra.   O  Heavens  !   this  o'ercomes  me  ! 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Not,  I  hope,  already  ? 

Gra.   [Aside.]   It  is  too  strong  for  me ;   men  knov>'  that 
know  us, 
We  are  so  weak  their  words  can  overthrow  us ; 
He  touched  me  nearly,  made  my  virtues  bate, 
When  his  tongue  struck  upon  my  poor  estate. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   I  e'en  quake  to  proceed,  my  spirit  turns 
edge. 
I  fear  me  she's  unmothered ;  yet  I'll  venture.  1 10 

"That  woman  is  all  male,  whom  none  can  enter."  —  \ 

What  think  you  now,  lady  ?     Speak,  are  you  wiser  ? 


364  THE   REVENGER-S   TRAGEDY  [act  11 

What  said  advancement  to  you  ?     Thus  it  said : 
The  daugher's  fall  lifts  up  the  mother's  head. 
Did  it  not,  madam  ?     But  I'll  swear  it  does 
In  many  places  :  tut,  this  age  fears  no  man. 
"  'Tis  no  shame  to  be  bad,  because  'tis  common." 

Gra.   Aye,  that's  the  comfort  on't. 

Ven.  The  comfort  on't! 

I  keep  the  best  for  last  —  can  these  persuade  you 
To  forget  Heaven  —  and  —  [Gives  her  money. 

^   Gra.  Aye,  these  are  they  — 

Ven.  O !     120 

Gra.   That  enchant  our  sex.     These  are 
The  means  that  govern  our  affections  —  that  woman 
Will  not  be  troubled  with  the  mother  long, 
That  sees  the  comfortable  shine  of  you : 
I  blush  to  think  what  for  your  sakes  I'll  do. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   0  suffering  Heaven,  with  thy  invisible 
finger. 
E'en  at  this  instant  turn  the  precious  side 
Of  both  mine  eyeballs  inward,  not  to  see  myself! 

Gra.   Look  you,  sir. 

Ven.  Hollo. 

Gra.  Let  this  thank  your  pains. 

Ven.   0,  you're  kind,  madam.  130 

Gra.   I'll  see  how  I  can  move. 

Ven.  Your  words  will  sting. 

Gra.   If  she  be  still  chaste,  I'll  ne'er  call  her  mine 

Ven.   Spoke  truer  than  you  meant  it. 

Gra.  Daughter  Castiza. 

Re-enter  Castiza 

Cas.   Madam.  ''^ 

Ven.   O,  she's  yonder ; 
Meet  her.  —  Troops  of  celestial  soldiers  guard  her  heart. 
Yon  dam  has  devils  enough  to  take  her  part. 

Cas.    Madam,  what  makes  yon  evil-officed  man 
In  presence  of  you  ? 


SCENE  I]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  365 

Gra.  Why  ? 

Cas.  He  lately  brought 

Immodest  writing  sent  from  the  duke's  son,  140 

To  tempt  me  to  dishonourable  act. 

Gra.    Dishonourable  act !  —  good  honourable  fool, 
That  wouldst  be  honest,  'cause  thou  wouldst  be  so, 
Producing  no  one  reason  but  thy  will. 
And't  has  a  good  report,  prettily  commended, 
But  pray,  by  whom  ?     Poor  people,  ignorant  people ; 
The  better  sort,  I'm  sure,  cannot  abide  it. 
And  by  what  rule  should  we  square  out  our  lives, 
But  by  our  betters'  actions  ?     O,  if  thou  knew'st 
What  'twere  to  lose  it,  thou  would  never  keep  it !  150 

But  there's  a  cold  curse  laid  upon  all  maids, 
Whilst  others  clip  the  sun,  they  clasp  the  shades. 
Virginity  is  paradise  locked  up. 
You  cannot  come  by  yourselves  °  without  fee ; 
And  'twas  decreed  that  man  should  keep  the  key  ! 
Deny  advancement !  treasure  !  the  duke's  son  ! 

Cas.   I  cry  you  mercy  !  lady,  I  mistook  you  ! 
Pray  did  you  see  my  mother  ?  which  way  went  you  ? 
Pray  God,  I  have  not  lost  her. 

Ven.   [Aside.]  Prettily  put  by  I 

Gra.   Are  you  as  proud  to  me,  as  coy  to  him  ?  160 

Do  you  not  know  me  now  ? 

Cas.  Why,  are  you  she  ? 

The  world's  so  changed  one  shape  into  another, 
It  is  a  wise  child  now  that  knows"  her  mother. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Most  right  i'  faith. 

Gra.  I  owe  your  cl^eek  my  hand 

For  that  presumption  now  ;  but  I'll  forget  it. 
Come,  you  shall  leave  those  childish  'haviours. 
And  understand  your  time.     Fortunes  flow  to  you ; 
What,  ^vill  you  be  a  girl  ? 
If  all  feared  drowning  that  spy  waves  ashore. 
Gold  would  grow  rich,  and  all  the  merchants  poor.         170 

Cas.   It  is  a  pretty  saying  of  a  Nvicked  one ; 


S66  THE   REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

But  methinks  now  it  does  not  show  so  well 
Out  of  your  mouth  —  better  in  his  I 

Ven.    [Aside.]    Faith,  bad  enough  in  both, 
Were  I  in  earnest,  as  I'll  seem  no  less.  — 
I  wonder,  lady,  your  own  mother's  words 
Cannot  be  taken,  nor  stand  in  full  force. 
'Tis  honesty  you  urge ;  what's  honesty  ? 
'Tis  but  Heaven's  beggar ;  and  what  woman  is 
So  foolish  to  keep  honesty,  180 

And  be  not  able  to  keep  herself  ?     No, 
Times  are  grown  wiser,  and  will  keep  less  charge." 
A  maid  that  has  small  portion  now  intends 
To  break  up  house,  and  live  upon  her  friends ; 
How  blessed  are  you  !  you  have  happiness  alone ; 
Others  must  fall  to  thousands,  you  to  one. 
Sufficient  in  himself  to  make  your  forehead 
Dazzle  the  world  with  jewels,  and  petitionary  people  ° 
Start  at  your  presence. 

Gra.   0,  if  I  were  young,  I  should  be  ravished !  190 

Cas.   Aye,  to  lose  your  honour  ! 

Ven.    'Slid,  how  can  you  lose  your  honour 
To  deal  with  my  lord's  grace  ? 
He'll  add  more  honour  to  it  by  his  title ; 
Your  mother  will  tell  you  how. 

Gra.  That  I  will. 

Ven.   O,  think  upon  the  pleasure  of  the  palace  ! 
Secured  ease  and  state  !  the  stirring  meats. 
Ready  to  move  out  of  the  dishes,  that  e'en  now 
Quicken  when  they  are  eaten  ! 

Banquets  abooad  by  torch-light !   music  !   sports  !         200 
Bareheaded  vassals,  that  had  ne'er  the  fortune 
To    keep    on    their    own    hats,    but    let    horns    wear 

'em  !" 
Nine  coaches  waiting  —  hurry,  hurry,  hurry  — 

Cas.   Aye,  to  the  devil. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Aye,  to  the  devil !  —  To  the  duke,  by 
my  faith. 


SCENE  I]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  367 

Gra.   Aye,  to  the  duke :  daughter,  you'd  scorn  to  think 
o'  the  devil,  an  you  were  there  once. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   True,  for  most  there  are  as  proud  as  he 
for  his  heart,  i'  faith.  —  210 

Who'd  sit  at  home  in  a  neglected  room, 
Dealing  her  short-lived  beauty  to  the  pictures, 
That  are  as  useless  as  old  men,  when  those 
Poorer  in  face  and  fortune  than  herself 
Walk  with  a  hundred  acres  on  their  backs,° 
Fair  meadows  cut  into  green  foreparts  ?     O, 
It  was  the  greatest  blessing  ever  happened  to  woman 
When  farmers'  sons  agreed  and  met  again. 
To  wash  their  hands,  and  come  up  gentlemen  ! 
The  commonwealth  has  flourished  ever  since :  220 

Lands  that  were  mete  by  the  rod,  that  labour's  spared : 
Tailors  ride  down,  and  measure  'em  by  the  yard. 
Fair  trees,  those  comely  foretops  of  the  field. 
Are  cut  to  maintain  head-tires  —  much  untold." 
All  thrives  but  chastity ;  she  lies  a-cold. 
Nay,  shall  I  come  nearer  to  you  ?  mark  but  this : 
Why  are  there  so  few  honest  women,  but  because  'tis 
the  poorer  profession  ?   that's  accounted  best  that's  best 
followed ;    least  in  trade,  least  in  fashion ;    and  that's 
not  honesty,"  believe  it ;  and  do  but  note  the  love "  and 
dejected  price  of  it  —  231 

Lose  but  a  pearl,  we  search,  and  cannot  brook  it : 
But  that"  once  gone,  who  is  so  mad  to  look  it  ? 

Gra.   Troth,  he  says  true. 

Cas.  False  !  I  defy  you  both : 

I  have  endured  you  with  an  ear  of  fire  ; 
Your  tongues  have  struck  hot  irons  on  my  face. 
Mother,  come  from  that  poisonous  woniaji-'there. 

Gra.   Where?  -■I''"  '"   '  . 

Cas.   Do  you  not  see  her  ?  she'^ too  inward,  then  !  "       V 
Slave,  perish  in  thy  office  ! "  you  Heavens,  please  240    \ 

Henceforth  to  make  the  mother"  a  disease. 
Which  first  begins  with  me :  yet  I've  outgone  you."    [Exit. 


368  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

Ven.    [Aside.]   O  angels,  clap  your  wings  upon  the  skies, 
And  give  this  \argin  crystal  plaudites  ! 

Gra.   Peevish,  coy,  foolish  !  —  but  return  this  answer, 
My  lord  shall  be  most  welcome,  when  his  pleasure 
Conducts  him  this  way.     I  will  sway  mine  own. 
Women  with  women  can  work  best  alone.  [Exit. 

Ven.   Indeed,  I'll  tell  him  so. 
O,  more  uncivil,  more  unnatural,  250 

Than  those  base-titled  creatures  that  look  downward ;  ° 
Why  does  not  Heaven  turn  black,  or  with  a  frown 
Undo  the  world  ?     Why  does  not  earth  start  up, 
And  strike  the  sins  that  tread  upon't  ?     O, 
Were't  not  for  gold  and  women,   there  would  be  no 

damnation. 
Hell  would  look  like  a  lord's  great  kitchen  without  fire  in't. 
But  'twas  decreed,  before  the  world  began. 
That  they  should  be  the  hooks  to  catch  at  man.     [Exit. 

Scene  II 
An  Apartment  in  the  Duke's  Palace 
Enter  LussuRioso,  with  Hippolito 

Lus.   I  much  applaud 
Thy  judgement ;  thou  art  well-read  in  a  fellow ; 
And  'tis  the  deepest  art  to  study  man. 
I  know  this,  which  I  never  learnt  in  schools. 
The  world's  divided  into  knaves  and  fools. 

Hip.   [Aside.]   Knave  in  your  face,  my  lord  —  behind 
your  back  — 

Lus.   And  I  much  thank  thee,  that  thou  hast  preferred 
A  fellow  of  discourse,  well-mingled. 
And  whose  brain  time  hath  seasoned. 

Ilip.  True,  my  lord, 

We  shall  find  season"  once,  I  hope.  —  [Aside.]   O  villain  !  10 
To  make  such  an  unnatural  slave  of  me  —  but  — 


SCENE  II]         THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  369 

Lus.    Mass,  here  he  comes. 

Hip.   [Aside.]   Aik^   now  shall  I  have  free  leave  to 

depart. 
Lus.   Your  absence,  leave  us. 

Hip.    [Aside.]  Are  not  my  thoughts  true  ? 

I  must  remove  ;  but,  brother,  you  may  stay. 
Heart !  we  are  both  made  bawds  a  new-found  way  ! 

[Exit. 

Enter  Vendice,  disguised 

Lus.   Now   we're   an    even   number,    a    third    man's 
dangerous. 
Especially  her  brother ;  —  say,  be  free, 
Have  I  a  pleasure  toward  — 

Ven.  O  my  lord  ! 

Lus.   Ravish  me  in  thine  answer ;  art  thou  rare  ?        20 
Hast  thou  beguiled  her  of  salvation, 
And  rubbed  hell  o'er  with  honey  ?     Is  she  a  woman  ? 

Ven.   In  all  but  in  desire. 

Lus.  Then  she's  in  nothing  — 

I  l^ate  in  courage  now. 

Ven.  The  words  I  brought 

Might  well  have  made  indifferent  honest  naught. 
A  right  good  woman  in  these  days  is  changed 
Into  white  money  with  less  labour  far ; 
Many  a  maid  has  turned  to  Mahomet 
With  easier  working :  I  durst  undertake. 
Upon  the  pawn  and  forfeit  of  my  life,  3° 

With  half  those  words  to  flat  a  Puritan's  wife. 
But  she  is  close  and  good  ;  yet  'tis  a  doubt 
By  this  time.  —  O,  the  mother,  the  mother  ! 

Lus.   T  never  thought  their  sex  had  been  a  wonder, 
Until  this  minute.     What  fruit  from  the  mother  ? 

Ven.    [Aside.]  How  must  I  blister  my  soul,  be  forsworn, 
Or  shame  the  woman  that  received  me  first ! 
I  will  be  true :  thou  liv'st  not  to  proclaim. 


370  THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  [act  il 

Spoke  to  a  dying  man,  shame  has  no  shame.  — 
My  lord. 

Lus.         Who's  that  ?  ° 

Ven.  Here's  none  but  I,  my  lord.  40 

Lus.   What  would  thy  haste  utter  ? 

Ven.  Comfort. 

Lus.  Welcome. 

Ven.   The  maid  being  dull,  having  no  mind  to  travel 
Into  unknown  lands,  what  did  I  straight, 
But  set  spurs  to  the  mother  ?  golden  spurs 
Will  put  her  to  a  false  gallop  in  a  trice. 

Lus.   Is't  possible  that  in  this 
The  mother  should  be  damned  before  the  daughter  ? 

Ven.  0,  that's  good  manners,  my  lord ;  the  mother 
for  her  age  must  go  foremost,  you  know. 

Lus.  Thou'st  spoke  that  true !  but  where  comes 
in  this  comfort  ?     •      .  51 

Ven.   In  a  fine  place,  my  lord,  —  the  unnatural  mother 
Did  with  her  tongue  so  hard  beset  her  honour. 
That  the  poor  fool  was  struck  to  silent  wonder ; 
Yet  still  the  maid,  like  an  unlighted  taper. 
Was  cold  and  chaste,  save  that  her  mother's  breath 
Did  blow  fire  on  her  cheeks.     The  girl  departed  ; 
But  the  good  ancient  madam,  half  mad,  threw  me 
These  promising  words,  which  I  took  deeply  note  of : 
"  My  lord  shall  be  most  welcome  "  —  60 

Lus.    Faith,  I  thank  her. 

Ven.    "When  his  pleasure  conducts  him  this  way"  — 

Lus.   That  shall  be  soon,  i'  faith. 

Ven.  "I  will  sway  mine  own"  — 

Lus.    She  does  the  wiser :  I  commend  her  for't. 

Ven.    "Women  with  women  can  work  best  alone." 

Lus.  By  this  light,  and  so  they  can ;  give  'em  their 
due,  men  are  not  comparable  to  'em. 

Ven.  No,  that's  true ;  for  you  shall  have  one  woman 
knit  more  in  an  hour,  than  any  man  can  ravel  again  in 
seven-and-twenty  years.  7° 


SCENE  II]        THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  371 

Lus.   Now  my  desires  are  happy ;   I'll  make  'em  free- 
men now. 
Thou  art  a  precious  fellow ;  faith,  I  love  thee ; 
Be  wise  and  make  it  thy  revenue ;  beg,  beg ; 
What  office  couldst  thou  be  ambitious  for  ? 

Ven.  Office,  my  lord  !  marry,  if  I  might  have  my 
wish,  I  would  have  one  that  was  never  begged  yet. 

Lus.   Nay,  then,  thou  canst  have  none. 

Ven.  Yes,  my  lord,  I  could  pick  out  another  office 
yet ;  nay,  and  keep  a  horse  and  drab  upon't. 

Lus.   Prithee,  good  bluntness,  tell  me.  So 

Ven.  Why,  I  would  desire  but  this,  my  lord  —  to 
have  all  the  fees  behind  the  arras,  and  all  the  farthingales 
that  fall  plump  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night  upon  the 
rushes . 

Lus.  Thou'rt  a  mad,  apprehensive  knave;  dost 
think  to  make  any  great  purchase  of  that  ? 

Ven.  O,  'tis  an  unknown  thing,  my  lord ;  I  wonder't 
has  been  missed  so  long. 

Lus.   Well,  this  night  I'll  visit  her,  and  'tis  till  then 
A  year  in  my  desires  —  farewell,  attend  90 

Trust  me  with  thy  preferment. 

Ven.  My  loved  lord  ! 

[Exit  LussuRioso.' 
O,  shall  I  kill  him  o'  th'  wrong  side  now  ?  no  ! 
Sword,  thou  wast  never  a  backbiter  yet.  \/ 

I'll_pi£ixehim  tohis  face  ;  he  shall  die  looking  upon  me.    "^ 
Thy  veins  are  swelled  with  lust,  this  shall  unfill  'em. 
Great  men  were  gods,  if  beggars  could  not  kill  'em. 
Forgive  me,  Heaven,  to  call  my  mother  wicked  ! 
O,  lessen  not  my  days  upon  the  earth," 
I  cannot  honour  her.     By  this,  I  fear  me, 
Her  tongue  has  turned  my  sister  unto  use.  100 

I  was  a  villain  not  to  be  forsworn 
To  this  our  lecherous  hope,  the  duke's  son  ; 
For  lawyers,  merchants,  some  divines,  and  all, 
Count  beneficial  perjury  °  a  sin  small. 


372  THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

It  shall  go  hard  yet,  but  I'll  guard  her  honour, 

And  keep  the  ports  sure.  [Exit. 

Scene  III 
A  Corridor  in  the  Palace 
Enter  Vendice,  still  disguised,  and  Hippolito 

Hip.   Brother,  how  goes  the  world?     I  would  know 
news  of  you. 
But  I  have  news  to  tell  you. 

Ven.   WTiat,  in  the  name  of  knavery  ? 

Hip.  Knavery,  faith ; 

This  vicious  old  duke's  worthily  abused ; 
The  pen  of  his  bastard  writes  him  cuckold  ? 

Ven.   His  bastard  ? 

Hip.  Pray,  believe  it ;    he  and  the  duchess 

By  night  meet  in  their  linen  ;  they  have  been  seen 
By  stair-foot  panders. 

Ven.  O,  sin  foul  and  deep  ! 

Great  faults  are  winked  at  when  the  duke's  asleep. 
See,  see,  here  comes  the  Spurio. 

Hip.  Monstrous  luxur !       lo 

Ven.   Unbraced  !  two  of  his  valiant  bawds  with  him  ! 
O,  there's  a  wicked  whisper ;  hell's  in  his  ear. 
Stay,  let's  observe  his  passage  — 

Enter  Spurio  and  Servants 

Spu.   O,  but  arc  you  sure  on't  ? 

ist  Ser.    My  lord,  most  sure  on't ;   for  'twas  spoke  by 
one. 
That  is  most  inward  with  the  duke's  son's  lust. 
That  he  intends  within  this  hour  to  steal 
Unto  Hippolito 's  sister,  whose  chaste  life 
The  mother  has  corrupted  for  his  use. 


SCENE  III]       THE    REVENGER'S    TRACKDV  373 

Spu.    Sweet  word !  sweet  occasion !  faith,  then,  brother, 
I'll  disinherit  you  in  as  short  time  ■  > 

As  I  was  when  I  was  begot  in  haste. 
I'll  damn  "  you  at  your  pleasure  :  precious  deed  ! 
After  your  lust,  O,  'twill  be  fine  to  bleed. 
Come,  let  our  passing  out  be  soft  and  wary. 

[Exeunt  Spurio  and  Servants. 

Ven.    Mark  !    there ;    there  ;  "  that  step ;    now  to  the 
duchess  ! 
This  their  second  meeting  writes  the  duke  cuckold 
With  new  additions  —  his  horns  newly  revived. 
Night !  thou  that  look'st  like  funeral  heralds'  fees," 
Torn  down  betimes  i'  the  morning,  thou  hang'st  fitly      3° 
To  grace  those  sins  that  have  no  grace  at  all. 
Now  'tis  full  sea  abed  over  the  world  : 
There's  juggling  of  all  sides ;  some  that  were  maids 
E'en  at  sunset,  are  now  perhaps  i'  the  toll-book.  \ '' 

This  woman  in  immodest  thin  apparel 
Lets  in  her  friend  by  water ;  here  a  dame        1 
Cunning  nails  leather  hinges  to  a  door, 
To  avoid  proclamation. 

Now  cuckolds  are  coining,  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace  ! 
And  careful  sisters  spin  that  thread  i'  the  night,  40 

That  does  maintain  them  and  their  bawds  i'  the  day. 

Hip.   You  flow  well,  brother. 

Yen.  Pooh  !     I'm  shallow  yet ; 

Too  sparing  and  too  modest ;  shall  I  tell  thee  ? 
If  every  trick  were  told  that's  dealt  by  night, 
There  are  few  here  that  would  not  blush  outright. , 

Hip.   I  am  of  that  belief  too.     Who's  this  comes  ? 

Ven.   The  duke's  son  up  so  late  ?     Brother,  fall  back. 
And  you  shall  learn  some  mischief.     My  good  lord  ! 

Enter  Lussiirioso 

Lus.   Piato !    why,  the   man   I   wished   for !     Come, 
I  do  embrace  this  season  for  the  fittest  5° 

To  taste  of  that  young  lady. 


374  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

Ven.    [Aside.]  Heart  and  hell ! 

Hip.    [Aside.]  Damned  villain  ! 

Ven.    [Aside.]   I  have  no  way  now  to  cross  it,  but  to 
kill  him. 

Lus.    Come,  only  thou  and  I. 

Ven.  My  lord  !  my  lord  ! 

Lus.   Why  dost  thou  start  us  ? 

Ven.   I'd  almost  forgot  —  the  bastard  ! 

Lus.  What  of  him  ? 

Ven.   This  night,  this  hour,  this  minute,  now  — 

Lus.  What?   what? 

Ven.    Shadows  the  duchess  — 

Lus.   Horrible  word  ! 
y       Ven.  And  (like  strong  poison)  eats 

Into  the  duke  your  father's  forehead. 

Lus.  O ! 

Ven.    He  makes  horn-royal. 

Lus.  Most  ignoble  slave  !     60 

Ven.   This  is  the  fruit  of  two  beds." 

Lus.  I  am  mad. 

Ven.   That  passage  he  trod  warily. 

Lus.  He  did  ? 

Ven.   And  hushed  his  villains  every  step  he  took. 

Lus.   His  villains  !     I'll  confound  them. 

Ven.   Take  'em  finely  —  finely,  now. 

Lus.   The   duchess'    chamber-door   shall    not    control 
me.  [Exeunt  Lussurioso  and  Vendice. 

Hip.    Good,  happy,  swift :    there's  gunpowder  i'  the 
court. 
Wildfire  at  midnight.     In  this  heedless  fury 
He  n  ay  show  violence  to  cross  himself. 
I'll  follow  the  event.  [Exit.      70 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGERS    TRAGEDY  375 

Scene  IV 

The  Duke's  Bedchamber.  —  The  Duke  and  Duchess  in 

bed 

Enter  Lussurioso  and  Vendice,  disguised 

Lus.   Where  is  that  villain  ? 

Yen.    Softly,  my  lord,  and  you  may  take  'em  twisted. 

Lus.   I  care  not  how. 

Ven.  O  !   'twill  be  glorious 

To  kill  'em  doubled,  when  they're  heaped.     Be  soft,  my 
lord. 

Lus.   Away  !   my  spleen  is  not  so  lazy :   thus  and  thus 
I'll  shake  their  eyelids  ope,  and  with  my  sword 
Shut  'em  again  for  ever.     Villain  !  strumpet ! 

Duke.   You  upper  guard,  defend  us  ! 

Duch.  Treason  !  treason  ! 

Duke.     0,  take  me  not  in  sleep  ! 
I  have  great  sins ;  I  must  have  days,  10 

Nay,  months,  dear  son,  with  penitential  heaves, 
To  lift  'em  out,  and  not  to  die  unclear. 
O,  thou  wilt  kill  me  both  in  Heaven  and  here. 

Lus.   I  am  amazed  to  death. 

Duke.  Nay,  villain,  traitor. 

Worse  than  the  foulest  epithet ;  now  I'll  gripe  thee 
E'en  with  the  nerves  of  wrath,  and  throw  thy  head 
Amongst  the  lawyers  !  °  —  guard  ! 

Enter  Ambitioso,  Supervacuo,  Hippolito  and  Lords 

1st  Lord.   How   comes   the   quiet   of   your  grace  dis- 
turbed ? 

Duke,  This  boy,  that  should  be  myself  after  me. 
Would  be  myself  before  me  ;  and  in  heat  20 

Of  that  ambition  bloodily  rushed  in, 
Intending  to  depose  me  in  my  bed. 


376  THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

2nd  Lord.    Duty  and  natural  loyalty  forfend  ! 

Duch.   He  called  his  father  villain,  and  me  strumpet, 
A  word  that  I  abhor  to  file  my  lips  with. 

Amb.   That  was  not  so  well  done,  brother. 

Lus.    [Aside.]   I  am  abused  —  I  know  there's  no  excuse 
can  do  me  good. 

Veil.    [Aside.]    'Tis  now  good  policy  to  be  from  sight ; 
His  vicious  purpose  to  our  sister's  honour 
I  crossed  beyond  our  thought.  30 

Hip.   You  httle  dreamed  his  father  slept  here. 

Ven.   O,  'twas  far  beyond  me : 
But  since  it  fell  so  —  without  frightful  words. 
Would  he  had  killed  him,  'twould  have  eased  our  swords. 

Duke.   Be  comforted,  our  duchess,  he  shall  die. 

[Exeunt  Vendice  and  Hippolito. 

Lus.   Where's  this  slave-pander  now  ?  out  of  mine  eye, 
Guilty  of  this  abuse. 

Enter  Spurio  with  Servants 

Spu.  Y'  are  villains,  fablers  ! 

You  have  knaves'  chins  and  harlots'  tongues ;  you  lie ; 
And  I  will  damn  you  with  one  meal  a  day. 

xst  Ser.   O  good  my  lord  ! 

Spu.  'Sblood,  you  shall  never  sup. 

2nd  Ser.   O,  I  beseech  you,  sir  !  41 

Spu.   To  let  my  sword  catch  cold  so  long,  and  miss  him  ! 

ist  Ser.   Troth,  my  lord,  'twas  his  intent  to  meet  there. 

Spu.   Heart !  he's  yonder. 
Ha,  what  news  here  ?  is  the  day  out  o'  the  socket, 
That  it  is  noon  at  midnight  ?  the  court  up  ? 
How  comes  the  guard  so  saucy  with  his  elbows  ? 

Lus.   The  bastard  here  ? 
Nay,  then  the  truth  of  my  intent  shall  out ; 
My  lord  and  father,  hear  me. 

Duke.  Bear  him  hence,  50 

Lus.   I  can  with  loyalty  excuse. 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  377 

Duke.    Excuse  ?   to  prison  with  the  villain  ! 
Death  shall  not  long  lag  after  him. 

Spu.    Good,  i'  faith  :  then  'tis  not  much  amiss. 

Lus.   Brothers,  my  best  release  lies  on  your  tongues ; 
I  pray,  persuade  for  me. 

.  1  mb.   It  is  our  duties  ;  make  yourself  sure  of  us. 

Sup.   We'll  sweat  in  pleading. 

Lus.   And  I  may  li\'e  to  thank  you. 

[Exit  with  Lords. 

Amb.   No,  thy  death  shall  thank  me  better.  60 

Spu.   He's  gone ;  I'll  after  him, 
And  know  his  trespass ;  seem  to  bear  a  part 
In  all  his  ills,  but  with  a  puritan  heart." 

[Exit  with  Servants. 

Amb.  Now,  brother,  let  our  hate  and  love  be  woven 
So  subtlely  together,  that  in  speaking  one  word  for  his 

hfe. 
We  may  make  three  for  his  death : 
The  craftiest  pleader  gets  most  gold  for  breath. 

Sup.   Set  on,  I'll  not  be  far  behind  you,  brother. 

Duke.  Is't  possible  a  son  should  be  disobedient  as 
far  as  the  sword  ?  It  is  the  highest :  he  can  go  no 
farther.  71 

Amb.   My  gracious  lord,  take  pity  — 

Duke.  Pity,  boys  ! 

A  mb.   Nay,  we'd  be  loath  to  move  your  grace  too  much ; 
We  know  the  trespass  is  unpardonable, 
Black,  wicked,  and  unnatural. 

Sup.   In  a  son  !     0,  monstrous  ! 

Amb.  Yet,  my  lord, 

A  duke's  soft  hand  strokes  the  rough  head  of  law, 
And  makes  it  lie  smooth. 

Duke.  But  my  hand  shall  ne'er  do't. 

Amb.   That  as  you  please,  my  lord. 

Sup.  We  must  needs  confess. 

Some  fathers  would  have  entered  into  hate  80 

So  deadly-pointed,  that  before  his  eyes 


^ 


378  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  ii 

He  would  ha'  seen  the  execution  sound  " 
Without  corrupted  favour. 

Amb.  But,  my  lord, 

Your  grace  may  Hve  the  wonder  of  all  times, 
In  pardoning  that  offence,  which  never  yet 
Had  face  to  beg  a  pardon. 

Duke.  Honey,  how's  this  ? 

Amb.   Forgive  him,  good  my  lord  ;  he's  your  own  son  : 
And  I  must  needs  say,  'twas  the  viler  done. 

Sup.   He's  the  next  heir :  yet  this  true  reason  gathers, 
None  can  possess  that  dispossess  their  fathers.  90 

Be  merciful !  — 

Duke.    [Aside.]   Here's  no  stepmother's  wit ; 
I'll  try  them  both  upon  their  love  and  hate. 

Amb.   Be  merciful  —  although  — 

Duke.  You  have  prevailed. 

My  wrath,  like  flaming  wax,  hath  spent  itself ; 
I  know  'twas  but  some  peevish  moon  in  him ; 
Go,  let  him  be  released. 

Sup.    [Aside.]  'Sfoot,  how  now,  brother? 

Amb.   Your  grace  doth  please  to  speak  beside  your 
spleen ; 
I  would  it  were  so  happy. 

Duke.  Why,  go,  release  him. 

Sup.   0  my  good  lord  !     I  know  the  fault's  too  weighty 
And  full  of  general  loathing :  too  inhuman,  100 

Rather  by  all  men's  voices  worthy  death. 

Duke.    'Tis  true  too  ;  here,  then,  receive  this  signet. 
Doom  shall  pass ; 

Direct  it  to  the  judges ;  he  shall  die 
Ere  many  days.     Make  haste. 

Amb.  All  speed  that  may  be. 

We  could  have  wished  his  burden  not  so  sore : 
We  knew  your  grace  did  but  delay  before. 

[Exeunt  Ambitioso  and  Supervacuo. 

Duke.   Here's  envy  with  a  poor  thin  cover  o'er't ; 
Like  scarlet  hid  in  lawn,  easily  spied  through. 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  379 

This  their  ambition  by  the  mother's  side  no 

Is  dangerous,  and  for  safety  must  be  purged. 

I  will  prevent  their  envies ;  sure  it  was 

But  some  mistaken  fury  in  our  son, 

Which  these  aspiring  boys  would  climb  upon  : 

He  shall  be  released  suddenly. 

Enter  Nobles 

ist  Noble.    Good  morning  to  your  grace. 

Duke.  Welcome,  my  lords. 

2}id  Noble.   Our  knees  shall  take 
Away  the  office  of  our  feet  for  ever, 
Unless  your  grace  bestow  a  father's  eye 
Upon  the  clouded  fortunes  of  your  son,  120 

And  in  compassionate  virtue  grant  him  that. 
Which  makes  e'en  mean  men  happy  —  liberty. 

Duke.   How  seriously  their  loves  and  honours  woo 
For  that  which  I  am  about  to  pray  them  do  ! 
Arise,  my  lords ;  your  knees  sign  his  release. 
We  freely  pardon  him. 

1st  Noble.   We  owe  your  grace  much  thanks,  and  he 
much  duty.  [Exeunt  Nobles. 

Duke.   It  well  becomes  that  judge  to  nod  at  crimes, 
That  does  commit  greater  him.self,  and  lives. 
I  may  forgive  a  disobedient  error,  13° 

That  expect  pardon  for  adultery, 
And  in  my  old  days  am  a  youth  in  lust. 
Many  a  beauty  have  I  turned  to  poison 
In  the  denial,"  covetous  of  all. 
Age  hot  is  like  a  monster  to  be  seen  ; 
TNIy  hairs  are  white,  and  yet  my  sins  are  green. 


ACT  THE  THIRD 

Scene  I 

A  Room  in  the  Palace 

Enter  Ambitioso  and  Supervacuo 

Sup.   Brother,  let  my  opinion  sway  you  once ; 
I  speak  it  for  the  best,  to  have  him  die 
Surest  and  soonest ;  if  the  signet  come 
Unto  the  judge's  hand,  why  then  his  doom 
Will  be  deferred  till  sittings  and  court-days, 
Juries,  and  further.     Faiths  are  bought  and  sold ; 
Oaths  in  these  days  are  but  the  skin  of  gold. 

Amb.   In  troth,  'tis  true  too. 

Sup.   Then  let's  set  by  the  judges. 
And  fall  to  the  officers ;  'tis  but  mistaking 
The  duke  our  father's  meaning ;  and  where  he  named 
"Ere  many  days"  —  'tis  but  forgetting  that. 
And  have  him  die  i'  the  morning. 

Amh.  Excellent ! 

Then  am  I  heir  !  duke  in  a  minute  ! 

Sup.    [Aside.]  Nay, 

An  he  were  once  puffed  out,  here  is  a  pin 
Should  quickly  prick  your  bladder. 

Amb.  Blessed  occasion 

He  being  packed,  we'll  have  some  trick  and  wile 
To  wind  our  younger  brother  out  of  prison, 
That  lies  in  for  the  rape.     The  lady's  dead. 
And  people's  thoughts  will  soon  be  buried. 

Sup.   We  may  with  safety  do't,  and  live  and  feed ; 
The  duchess'  sons  are  too  proud  to  bleed. 

380 


SCENE  II]        THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  38 1 

Amb.   We  are,  i'  faith,  to  say  true  —  come,  let's  not 
linger : 
I'll  to  the  officers ;  go  you  before, 
And  set  an  edge  upon  the  executioner. 

Sup.   Let  me  alone  to  grind.  [Exit. 

Amb.  Meet  farewell ! 

I  am  ne.xt  now  ;  I  rise  just  in  that  place, 
Where  thou'rt  cut  off ;  upon  thy  neck,  kind  brother ; 
The  falling  of  one  head  lifts  up  another.  [Exit. 

Scene  II 

The  Courtyard  of  a  Prison 

Enter  Lussurioso  with  Nobles 

Lus.   My  lords,  I  am  so  much  indebted  to  your  loves 
For  this,  O,  this  delivery  — 

1st  Nobk'    Put  our  duties,  my  lord,  unto  the  hopes 
that  grow  in  you. 

Lus.   If  e'er  I  live  to  be  myself,"  I'll  thank  you. 
O  liberty,  thou  sweet  and  heavenly  dame  ! 
But  hell  for  prison  is  too  mild  a  name.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Ambitioso  and  Supervacuo,  with  Officers 

Amb.   Officers,   here's   the   duke's   signet,    your    firm 
warrant. 
Brings  the  command  of  present  death  along  with  it 
Unto  our  brother,  the  duke's  son  ;  we  are  sorry 
That  we  are  so  unnaturally  employed  10 

In  such  an  unkind  office,  fitter  far 
For  enemies  than  brothers. 

Sup.  But,  you  know. 

The  duke's  command  must  be  obeyed. 

ist  Off.   It  must  and  shall,  my  lord.     This  morning, 
then 
So  suddenly  ? 


382  THE   REVENGER^S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Amb.  Aye,  alas  !  poor,  good  soul ! 

He  must  breakfast  betimes ;  the  executioner 
Stands  ready  to  put  forth  his  cowardly  valour. 

2}td  Off.   Already  ? 

Sup.   Already,  i'  faith.     O  sir,  destruction  hies. 
And  that  is  least  imprudent,"  soonest  dies.  20 

ist  Off.   Troth,  you  say  true.     My  lord,  we  take  our 
leaves : 
Our  office  shall  be  sound ;  °  we'll  not  delay 
The  third  part  of  a  minute. 

Amb.  Therein  you  show 

Yourselves  good  men  and  upright.     Officers, 
Pray,  let  him  die  as  private  as  he  may ; 
Do  him  that  favour ;  for  the  gaping  people 
Will  but  trouble  him  at  his  prayers. 
And  make  him  curse  and  swear,  and  so  die  black. 
Will  you  be  so  far  kind  ? 

15/  Off.  It  shall  be  done,  my  lord. 

Amb.   Why,  we  do  thank  you  ;  if  we  live  tcf  be —       30 
You  shall  have  a  better  office. 

2nd  Off.  Your  good  lordship  — 

Sup.    Commend  us  to  the  scaffold  in  our  tears. 

15/  Off.   We'll  weep,  and  do  your  commendations. 

Amb.    Fine  fools  in  office  !  "  [Exeunt  Officers. 

Sup.  Things  fall  out  so  fit ! 

Amb.   So  happily  !  come,  brother  !  ere  next  clock. 
His  head  will  be  made  serve  a  bigger  block.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III 

Inside  a  Prison 

Enter  the  Duchess'  Youngest  Son  and  Keeper 

Y.  Son.    Keeper  ! 
Keep.    My  lord. 

Y.  Son.   No  news  lately  from  our  brothers  ? 
Are  they  unmindful  of  us  ? 


SCENE  III]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  383 

Keep.    My  lord,  a  messenger  came  newly  in, 
And  brought  this  from  'em. 

Y.  Son.   Nothing  but  paper-comforts  ? 
I  looked  for  my  delivery  before  this. 
Had  they  been  worth  their  oaths.  —  Prithee,  be  from  us. 

[Exit  Keeper. 
Now  what  say  you,  forsooth  ?  speak  out,  I  pray.  10 

[Reads  the  letter.]    " Brother,  be  of  good  cheer" ; 
'Slud,  it  begins  hke  a  whore  with  good  cheer. 
"Thou  shalt  not  be  long  a  prisoner." 
Not  six-and-thirty  years,  like  a  bankrupt  —  I  think  so. 
"  We  have  thought  upon  a  device  to  get  thee  out  by  a  trick." 
By  a  trick  !  pox  o'  your  trick,  an'  it  be  so  long  a  playing. 
"And  so  rest  comforted,  be  merry,  and  e.xpect  it  sud- 
denly!" 
Be  merry!  hang  merry,  draw  and  quarter  merry ;  I'll  be 
mad.      Is't   not    strange   that   a    man    should   lie-in    a 
whole    month    for    a    woman  ?     Well,    we    shall    see 
how  sudden  our  brothers  will  be  in  their  promise.     I 
must  expect  still  a  trick :   I  shall  not  be  long  a  prisoner. 
How  now,  what  news  ?  23 

Re-enter  Keeper 

Keep.   Bad  news,  my  lord ;  I  am  discharged  of  you. 
Y.  Son.   Slave !     call'st    thou    that    bad    news  ?     I 

thank  you,  brothers. 
Keep.    My  lord,   'twill  prove  so.     Here  comes  the 

officers. 
Into  whose  hands  I  must  commit  you. 
F.  Son.   Ha,  officers  !   what  ?   why  ? 

Enter  Officers 

ist  OJf.   You  must  pardon  us,  my  lord : 
Our  office  must  be  sound  :  for  here  is  our  warrant,         30 
The  signet  from  the  duke ;  you  must  straight  suffer. 


384  THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Y.  Son.    Suffer  !    I'll  suffer  you  to  begone ;    I'll  suffer 
you 
To  come  no  more ;  what  would  you  have  me  suffer  ? 

2nd  Off.   My  lord,  those  words  were  better  changed 
to  prayers. 
The  time's  but  brief  with  you  :  prepare  to  die. 

F.  Son.   Sure,  'tis  not  so  ! 

yd  Of.  It  is  too  true,  my  lord. 

Y.  Son.   I  tell  you  'tis  not ;  for  the  duke  my  father 
Deferred  me  till  next  sitting ;  and  I  look. 
E'en  every  minute,  threescore  times  an  hour, 
For  a  release,  a  trick  wrought  by  my  brothers.  4° 

15/  Of.   A  trick,  my  lord  !  if  you  expect  such  comfort. 
Your  hope's  as  fruitless  as  a  barren  woman  : 
Your  brothers  were  the  unhappy  messengers 
That  brought  this  powerful  token"  for  your  death. 

F.  Son.    My  brothers  ?  no,  no. 

2nd  Of.  'Tis  most  true,  my  lord. 

F.  Son.    My  brothers  to  bring  a  warrant  for  my  death  ! 
How  strange  this  shows  ! 

T,rd  Of.  There's  no  delaying  time. 

F.  Son.    Desire  'em  hither :   call  'em  up  —  my  broth- 
ers ! 
They  shall  deny  it  to  your  faces. 

1st  Of.  My  lord. 

They're  far  enough  by  this ;  at  least  at  court ;  5° 

And  this  most  strict  command  they  left  behind  'em. 
When  grief  swam  in  their  eyes,  they  showed  like  brothers, 
Brimful  of  heavy  sorrow  —  but  the  duke 
"Must  have  his  pleasure." 

F.  Son.   His  pleasure  ! 

15/  Of.   These  were  the  last  words,  which  my  memory 
bears, 
"Commend  us  to  the  scaffold  in  our  tears." 

F.  Son.   Pox  dry  their  tears  !    what  should  I  do  with 
tears  ? 
I  hate  'em  worse  than  any  citizen's  son 


SCENE  III]       THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  385 

Can  hate  salt  water.     Here  came  a  letter  now,  60 

New-bleeding  from  their  pens,  scarce  stinted  yet : 
Would  I'd  been  torn  in  pieces  when  I  tore  it : 
Look,  you  officious  whoresons,  words  of  comfort, 
"Not  long  a  prisoner." 

ist  OJf.   It  says  true  in  that,  sir;   for  you  must  suffer 
presently. 

V.  Son.   A  villainous  Duns"  upon  the  letter,  knavish 
exposition  ! 
Look  you  then  here,  sir :   "we'll  get  thee  out  by  a  trick," 
says  he. 

2nd  OJf.  That  may  hold  too,  sir ;  for  you  know  a  trick 
is  commonly  four  cards,"  which  was  meant  by  us  four 
officers.  70 

F.  Son.   Worse  and  worse  dealing. 

ist  Off.   The  hour  beckons  us. 
The  headsman  waits  :  lift  up  your  eyes  to  Heaven. 

F.  Son.   I  thank  you,  faith ;    good  pretty  wholesome 
counsel  ! 
I  should  look  up  to  Heaven,  as  you  said. 
Whilst  he  behind  me  cozens  me  of  my  head. 
Aye,  that's  the  trick. 

yd  Off.  You  delay  too  long,  my  lord. 

F.  Son.   Stay,  good  authority's  bastards; "  since  I  must, 
Through  brothers'  perjury,  die,  O,  let  me  venom 
Their  souls  with  curses. 

yd  Off.  Come,  'tis  no  time  to  curse.     80 

F.  Son.   Must  I  bleed  then  without  respect  of  sign  ? 
well  — 
My  fault  was  sweet  sport  which  the  world  approves, 
I  die  for  that  which  every  woman  loves.  [Exeunt. 


386  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iii 

Scene  IV 

A  Lodge  in  the  Ducal  Grounds 

Enter  Vendice,  disguised,  and  Hippolito 

Ven.   O,  sweet,  delectable,  rare,  happy,  ravishing ! 

Hip.   Why,  what's  the  matter,  brother? 

Ven.   O,  'tis  able  to  make  a  man  spring  up  and  knock 
his  forehead 
Against  yon  silver  ceiUng. 

Hip.  Prithee,  tell  me  ; 

Why  may  not  I  partake  with  you  ?  you  vowed  once 
To  give  me  share  to  every  tragic  thought. 

Ven.   By  the  mass,  I  think  I  did  too ; 
Then  I'll  divide  it  to  thee."     The  old  duke, 
Thinking  my  outward  shape  and  inward  heart 
Are  cut  out  of  one  piece  (for  he  that  prates  his  secrets,    lo 
His  heart  stands  o'  the  outside),  hires  me  by  price 
To  greet  him  with  a  lady 

In  some  fit  place,  veiled  from  the  eyes  o'  the  court, 
Some  darkened,  blushless  angle,  that  is  guilty 
Of  his  forefather's  lust  and  great  folks'  riots ; 
To  which  I  easily  (to  maintain  my  shape) 
Consented,  and  did  wish  his  impudent  grace 
To  meet  her  here  in  this  unsunned  lodge. 
Wherein  'tis  night  at  noon  ;  and  here  the  rather 
Because,  unto  the  torturing  of  his  soul,  20 

The  bastard  and  the  duchess  have  appointed 
Their  meeting  too  in  this  luxurious  circle ; 
Which  most  afflicting  sight  will  kill  his  eyes, 
Before  we  kill  the  rest  of  him. 

Hip.    'Twill,  i'  faith  !     Most  dreadfully  digested  ! 
I  see  not  how  you  could  have  missed  me,  brother. 

Ven.   True ;  but  the  violence  of  my  joy  forgot  it.  • 

Hip.   Aye,  but  where's  that  lady  now  ? 

Ven.  O  !  at  that  word 


SCENK  IV]       THE    REVENGER^S   TRACiEDY  387 

I'm  lost  again  ;  you  cannot  find  me  yet : 

I'm  in  a  throng  of  happy  apprehensions.  30 

He's  suited  for  a  lady  ;  I  have  took  care 

For  a  delicious  lip,  a  sparkling  eye  — 

You  shall  be  witness,  brother : 

Be  ready ;    stand  with  your  hat  off.  [Exit. 

Hip.   Troth,  I  wonder  what  lady  it  should  be  ! 
Yet  'tis  no  wonder,  now  I  think  again. 
To  have  a  lady  stoop  to  a  duke,  that  stoops  unto  his  men. 
'Tis  common  to  be  common  through  the  world  : 
And  there's  more  private  common  shadowing  vices, 
Than  those  who  are  known  both  by  their  names  and 
prices."  40 

'Tis  part  of  my  allegiance  to  stand  bare 
To  the  duke's  concubine  ;  and  here  she  comes. 

Re-enter  Vendice,  with  the  skull  of  his  Betrothed  dressed 
up  in  tires 

Ven.    Madam,  his  grace  will  not  be  absent  long. 
Secret !  ne'er  doubt  us,  madam ;  'twill  be  worth 
Three  velvet  gowns  to  your  ladyship.     Known  !" 
Few  ladies  respect  that  disgrace :  a  poor  thin  shell ! 
'Tis  the  best  grace  you  have  to  do  it  well. 
I'll  save  your  hand  that  labour :°  I'll  unmask  you  ! 

Hip.   Why,  brother,  brother  ! 

Ven.   Art  thou  beguiled  now  ?  tut,  a  lady  can,  -o 

As  such  all  hid,"  beguile  a  wiser  man. 
Have  I  not  fitted  the  old  surfeiter 
With  a  quaint  piece  of  beauty  ?     Age  and  bare  bone 
Are  e'er  allied  in  action.     Here's  an  eye. 
Able  to  tempt  a  great  man  —  to  serve  God  : 
A  pretty  hanging  lip,  that  has  forgot  now  to  dissemble. 
Methinks  this  mouth  should  make  a  swearer  tremble ; 
A  drunkard  clasp  his  teeth,  and  not  undo  'cm. 
To  suffer  wet  damnation  to  run  through  'em. 
Here's  a  cheek  keeps  her  colour,  let  the  wind  go  whistle  : 


388  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Spout,  rain,  we  fear  thee  not :  be  hot  or  cold,  6i 

All's  one  with  us ;  and  is  not  he  absurd. 
Whose  fortunes  are  upon  their  faces  set, 
That  fear  no  other  god  but  wind  and  wet  ? 

Hip.    Brother,  you've  spoke  that  right : 
Is  this  the  form  that,  living,  shone  so  bright  ? 

Ven.   The  very  same. 
And  now  methinks  I  could  e'en  chide  myself 
For  doting  on  her  beauty,  though  her  death 
Shall  be  revenged  after  no  common  action.  70 

Does  the  silkworm  expend  her  yellow  labours 
For  thee  ?     For  thee  does  she  undo  herself  ? 
Are  lordships  sold  to  maintain  ladyships, 
For  the  poor  benefit  of  a  bewildering  minute  ? 
Why  does  yon  fellow  falsify  highways," 
And  put  his  life  between  the  judge's  lips. 
To  refine  such  a  thing  —  keeps  horse  and  men 
To  beat  their  valours  for  her  ? 
Surely  we  are  all  m.ad  people,  and  they 
Whom  we  think  are,  are  not :  we  mistake  those ;  80 

'Tis  we  are  mad  in  sense,  they  but  in  clothes. 

Hip.    Faith,  and  in  clothes  too  we,  give  us  our  due. 

Ven.   Does  every  proud  and  self-affecting  dame 
Camphire  her  face  for  this,  and  grieve  her  Maker 
In  sinful  baths  of  milk,  when  many  an  infant  starves 
For  her  superfluous  outside  —  all  for  this  ? 
Who  now  bids  twenty  pounds  a  night  ?  prepares 
Music,  perfumes,  and  sweetmeats?     All  are  hushed. 
Thou  may'st  lie  chaste  now  !  it  were  fine,  methinks, 
To  have  thee  seen  at  revels,  forgetful  feasts,  90 

And  unclean  brothels  !  sure,  'twould  fright  the  sinner. 
And  make  him  a  good  coward  :  put  a  reveller 
Out  of  his  antic  amble. 
And  cloy  an  epicure  with  empty  dishes. 
Here  might  a  scornful  and  ambitious  woman 
Look  through  and  through  herself.     See,  ladies,  with  false 
forms 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  3S9 

You  deceive  men,  but  cannot  deceive  worms.  — 

Now  to  my  tragic  business.     Look  you,  brother, 

I  have  not  fashioned  this  only  for  show 

And  useless  property  ; "  no,  it  shall  bear  a  {)art  100 

E'en  in  its  own  revenge.     This  very  skull. 

Whose  mistress  the  duke  poisoned,  with  this  drug. 

The  mortal  curse  of  the  earth,  shall  be  revenged 

In  the  like  strain,  and  kiss  his  lips  to  death. 

As  much  as  the  dumb  thing  can,  he  shall  feel : 

What  fails  in  poison,  well  supply  in  steel. 

Hip.    Brother,  I  do  applaud  thy  constant  vengeance  — 
The  quaintness  of  thy  malice  —  abo\'e  thought. 

Ven.   So,  'tis  laid  on  [He  poisons  the  lips  of  the  skull] : 
now  come  and  welcome,  duke, 
I  have  her  for  thee.     I  protest  it,  brother,  no 

Methinks  she  makes  almost  as  fair  a  fine. 
As  some  old  gentlewoman  in  a  periwig. 
Hide  thy  face  now"  for  shame ;    thou  hadst  need  have  a 

mask  now : 
'Tis  vain  when  beauty  flows ;  "  but  when  it  fleets, 
This  would  become  graves  better  than  the  streets. 

Hip.  You  have  my  voice"  in  that:  hark,  the  duke's  come. 

Ven.   Peace,  let's  observe  what  company  he  brings. 
And  how  he  does  absent  'em  ;  for  you  know 
He'll  wish  all  private.     Brother,  fall  you  back  a  little 
With  the  bony  lady.  120 

Hip.   That  I  will.  [Retires. 

Ven.   So,  so ;   now  nine  years'  vengeance  crowd  into  a 
minute ! 

Enter  Duke  and  Gentlemen 

Duke.   You  shall  have  leave  to  leave  us,  with  this 
charge 
Upon  your  lives,  if  we  be  missed  by  the  duchess 
Or  any  of  the  nobles,  to  give  out. 
We're  privately  rid  forth. 


390  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Ven.  O  happiness ! 

Duke.   With   some   few   honourable   gentlemen,   you 
may  say  — 
You  may  name  those  that  are  away  from  court. 

Gen.    Your  will  and  pleasure  shall  be  done,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  Gentlemen. 

Ven.    ''Privately  rid  forth!"  130 

He  strives  to  make  sure  work  on't.  —  Your  good  grace  ! 

[Advafices. 

Duke.   Piato,    well    done,    hast    brought    her !     what 
lady  is't  ?. 

Ven.  Faith,  my  lord,  a  country  lady,  a  little  bash- 
ful at  first,  as  most  of  them  are ;  but  after  the  first 
kiss,  my  lord,  the  worst  is  past  with  them.  Your 
grace  knows  now  what  you  have  to  do ;  she  has  somewhat 
a  grave  look  with  her  —  but  — 

Duke.   I  love  that  best ;  conduct  her." 

Ven.   [Aside.]  Have  at  all. 

Duke.   In  gravest  looks  the  greatest  faults  seem  less. 
Give  me  that  sin  that's  robed  in  holiness.  140 

Ven.  [Aside.]  Back  with  the  torch  !  brother,  raise  the 
perfumes. 

Duke.   How  sweet  can  a  duke  breathe  !     Age  has  no 
fault. 
Pleasure  should  meet  in  a  perfumed  mist. 
Lady,  sweetly  encountered  :  I  came  from  court, 
I  must  be  bold  with  you.     O,  what's  this  ?     O  I 

Ven.   Royal  villain  !  white  devil ! 

Duke.   O! 

Ven.   Brother,  place  the  torch  here,  that  his  affrighted 
eyeballs 
May  start  into  those  hollows.     Duke,  dost  know  15° 

Yon  dreadful  vizard  ?     View  it  well ;  'tis  the  skull 
Of  Gloriana,  whom  thou  poisonedst  last. 

Duke.   O  !   't  has  poisoned  me  ! 

Ven.   Didst  not  know  that  till  now  ? 

Duke.  What  are  you  two  ? 


SCENE  IV]        THE    REVENC;ER'S   TRAGEDY  391 

Veil.   Villains  all  three  !  the  very  ragged  bone 
Has  been  sufficiently  revenged. 

Duke.   0,  Hippolito,  call  treason  !  [He  sinks  down. 

Uip.   Yes,  my  lord ;   treason  1  treason  !  treason  ! 

[Stamping  on  him. 

Duke.   Then  I'm  betrayed. 

Ven.   Alas!  poor  lecher:  in  the  hands  of  knaves,     160 
A  slavish  duke  is  baser  than  his  slaves. 

Duke.   My  teeth  are  eaten  out. 

Ven.  Hadst  any  left  ? 

Hip.   I  think  but  few. 

Ven.   Then  those  that  did  cat  are  eaten. 

Duke.  O  my  tongue  ! 

Ven.   Your  tongue?    'twill  teach  you  to  kiss  closer. 
Not  like  a  slobbering  Dutchman.     You  have  eyes  still : 
Look,  monster,  what  a  lady  hast  thou  made  me 

[Discovers  himself. 
My  once  betrothed  wife. 

Duke.   Is  it  thou,  \nllain  ?  nay,  then  — 

Ven.    'Tis  I,  'tis  Vendice,  'tis  I.  170 

Hip.   And  let  this  comfort  thee  :  our  lord  and  father 
Fell  sick  upon  the  infection  of  thy  frowns, 
And  died  in  sadness :  be  that  thy  hope  of  life. 

Duke.   0! 

Ven.   He  had   his   tongue,    yet  grief   made    him   die 
speechless. 
Pooh  !  'tis  but  early  yet ;  now  I'll  begin 
To  stick  thy  soul  with  ulcers.     I  will  make 
Thy  spirit  grievous  sore ;  it  shall  not  rest. 
But  like  some  pestilent  man  toss  in  thy  breast.     Mark 

me,  duke : 
Thou  art  a  renowned,  high  and  mighty  cuckold.  iSo 

Duke.   O! 

Ven.   Thy  bastard,  thy  bastard  rides  a-hunting  in  thy 
brow. 

Duke.   Millions  of  deaths  ! 

Ven.  Nay,  to  afflict  thee  more, 


392  THE   REVENGER^S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Here  in  this  lodge  they  meet  for  damned  clips. 
Those  eyes  shall  see  the  incest  of  their  lips. 

Duke.   Is  there  a  hell  besides  this,  villains  ? 

Ven.   Villain  ! 
Nay,  Heaven  is  just ;  scorns  are  the  hire  of  scorns : 
I  ne'er  knew  yet  adulterer  without  horns. 

Hip.   Once,  ere  they  die,  'tis  quitted." 

Ven.  Hark  !  the  music : 

Their  banquet  is  prepared,  they're  coming  —  191 

Duke.   O,  kill  me  not  with  that  sight ! 

Ven.   Thou  shalt  not  lose  that  sight  for  all  thy  duke- 
dom. 

Duke.   Traitors  !   murderers  ! 

Ven.   What !  is  not  thy  tongue  eaten  out  yet  ? 
Then  we'll  invent  a  silence.     Brother,  stifle  the  torch. 

Duke.   Treason  I   murder  ! 

Ven.   Nay,  faith,  we'll  have  you  hushed.     Now  with 
thy  dagger 
Nail  down  his  tongue,  and  mine  shall  keep  possession 
About  his  heart ;  if  he  but  gasp,  he  dies ;  200 

We  dread  not  death  to  quittance  injuries. 
Brother,  if  he  but  wink,  not  brooking  the  foul  object, 
Let  our  two  other  hands  tear  up  his  lids. 
And  make  his  eyes  like  comets  shine  through  blood. 
When  the  bad  bleeds,  then  is  the  tragedy  good. 

Hip.   Whist,  brother  !    the  music's  at  our  ear ;    they 
come. 

Enter  Spurio,  meeting  the  Duchess 

Spu.   Had  not  that  kiss  a  taste  of  sin,  'twere  sweet. 

Duck.   Why,  there's  no  pleasure  sweet,  but  it  is  sinful. 

Spu.   True,  such  a  bitter  sweetness  fate  hath  given  ; 
Best  side  to  us  is  the  worst  side  to  Heaven.  210 

Duch.   Pish  !    come :    'tis  the  old  duke,  thy  doubtful 
father : 
The  thought  of  him  rubs  Heaven  in  thy  way. 


SCENE  v]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  393 

But  I  protest  by  yonder  waxen  fire, 
Forget  him,  or  I'll  poison  him. 

Spu.   Madam,  you  urge  a  thought  which  ne'er  had  life. 
So  deadly  do  I  loathe  him  for  my  birth,  Y 

That  if  he  tjook_me  hasped  within  his  bedj^ 
I  would  add  mu^er  to  adultery. 
And  with  my  sword  give  up  his  years  to  death. 

Duch.   Why,  now  thou'rt  sociable ;  lets  in  and  feast : 
Loud'st  music  sound  ;  pleasure  is  banquet's  guest.        221 

[Exeunt  Duchess  and  Spurio. 

Duke.   I  cannot  brook  —  [Dies. 

Ven.  The  brook  is  turned  to  blood. 

Hip.   Thanks  to  loud  music. 

Ven.  'Twas  our  friend,  indeed. 

'Tis  state  in  music  for  a  duke  to  bleed." 
The  dukedom  wants  a  head,  though  yet  unknown  ; 
As  fast  as  they  peep  up,  let's  cut  'em  down.        [Exeunt. 

Scene  V 

A  Room  in  the  Palace 

Enter  Ambitioso  and  Supervacuo 

Amh.   Was  not  his  execution  rarely  plotted  ? 
We  are  the  duke's  sons  now. 

Sup.   Aye,  you  may  thank  my  policy  for  that. 

Amb. "  Your  policy  for  what  ? 

Sup.   Why,  was't  not  my  invention,  brother, 
To  slip  the  judges  ?  and  in  lesser  compass 
Did  I  not  draw  the  model  of  his  death ; 
Advising  you  to  sudden  officers 
And  e'en  extemporal  execution  ? 

Amb.   Heart !  'twas  a  thing  I  thought  on  too.  10 

Sup.   You  thought  on't  too  !    'sfoot,  slander  not  your 
thoughts 
With  glorious  untruth  ;  I  know  'twas  from  you. 


394  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  hi 

Amb.    Sir,  I  say,  'twas  in  my  head. 

Sup.  Aye,  like  your  brains  then. 

Ne'er  to  come  out  as  long  as  you  lived. 

Amb.   You'd  have  the  honour  on't,  forsooth,  that  your 
wit 
Led  him  to  the  scaffold. 

Sup.  Since  it  is  my  due, 

I'll  pubHsh't,  but  I'll  ha't  in  spite  of  you. 

Amb.   Methinks,  y'are  much  too  bold;    you  should  a 
little 
Remember  us,  brother,  next  to  be  honest  duke. 

Sup.    [Aside.]   Aye,  it  shall  be  as  easy  for  you  to  be  duke 
As  to  be  honest ;  and  that's  never,  i' faith.  21 

Amb.   Well,  cold  he  is  by  this  time ;  and  because 
We're  both  ambitious,  be  it  our  amity, 
And  let  the  glory  be  shared  equally. 

Sup.   I  am  content  to  that. 

Amb.   This  night  our  younger  brother  shall  out  of 
prison : 
I  have  a  trick. 

Sup.  A  trick  !  prithee,  what  is't  ? 

Amb.   We'll  get  him  out  by  a  wile. 

Sup.  Prithee,  what  wile  ? 

Ajnb.   No,  sir ;  you  shall  not  know  it,  till  it  be  done ; 
For  then  you'd  swear  'twere  yours.  2° 

Enter  an  Officer 

Sup.   How  now,  what's  he  ? 

Amb.  One  of  the  officers. 

Sup.   Desired  news. 

Amb.  How  now,  my  friend? 

Off.    My  lords,  under  your  pardon,  I  am  allotted 
To  that  desertless  office,  to  present  you 
With  the  yet  bleeding  head  — 

Sup.  Ha,  ha  !  excellent. 

Amb.   All's    sure    our    own:     brother,    canst    weep, 
think'st  thou  ? 


SCENE  V]        THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  395 

'Twould  grace  our  flattery  much  ;   think  of  some  dame ; 
'Twill  teach  thee  to  dissemble. 

Sup.   I  have  thought ;  —  now  for  yourself. 

A)}ib.   Our  sorrows  are  so  fluent,  40 

Our  eyes  o'erflow  our  tongues ;  words  spoke  in  tears 
Are  like  the  murmurs  of  the  waters  —  the  sound 
Is  loudly  heard,  but  cannot  be  distinguished. 

Sup.   How  died  he,  pray  ? 

OJ'.  O,  full  of  rage  and  spleen. 

Sup.   He  died  most  valiantly,  then  ;  we're  glad  to  hear 
it. 

Off.   We  could  not  woo  him  once  to  pray: 

ylmb.    He  showed  himself  a  gentleman  in  that : 
Give  him  his  due. 

Off.  But,  in  the  stead  of  prayer, 

He  drew  forth  oaths. 

Stip.  Then  did  he  pray,  dear  heart, 

Although  you  understood  him  not  ? 

Off.  My  lords,  50 

E'en  at  his  last,  with  pardon  be  it  spoke, 
He  cursed  you  both. 

Sup.  He  cursed  us  ?  'las,  good  soul ! 

Amb.   [Aside.]   It  was  not  in  our  powers,  but  the  duke's 
pleasure. 
Finely  dissembled  a  both  sides,  sweet  fate ; 

0  happy  opportunity  ! 

Enter  Lussurioso 

Lus.   Now,  my  lords. 

Amb.  and  Stip.  0  !  — 

Ltis.  Why  do  you  shun  me,  brothers  ? 

You  may  come  nearer  now  : 
The  savour  of  the  prison  has  forsook  me. 

1  thank  such  kind  lords  as  yourselves,  I'm  free. 

Amb.   Alive  !  60 

Sup.   In  health  ! 


396  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iii 

Amb.   Released ! 
We  were  both  e'en  amazed  with  joy  to  see  it. 

Lus.   I  am  much  to  thank  to  you. 

Sup.    Faith,  we  spared  no  tongue  unto  my  lord  the 
duke. 

Amb.   I  know  your  dehvery,  brother, 
Had  not  been  half  so  sudden  but  for  us. 

Sup.   0,  how  we  pleaded  ! 

Lus.  Most  deserving  brothers  ! 

In  my  best  studies  I  will  think  of  it.  [Exit. 

Amb.   O  death  and  vengeance  ! 

Sup.  Hell  and  torments  ! 

Amb.   Slave,  cam'st  thou  to  delude  us  ?  7' 

Off.   Delude  you,  my  lords  ? 

Sup.   Aye,  villain,  where's  his  head  now  ? 

Off.  Why  here,  my  lord  ; 

Just  after  his  delivery,  you  both  came 
With  warrant  from  the  duke  to  behead  your  brother. 

Amb.   Aye,  our  brother,  the  duke's  son. 

Off.   The  duke's  son,  my  lord,  had  his  release  before 
you  came. 

Amb.   Whose  head's  that,  then  ? 

Off.   His   whom    you    left    command    for,    your   own 
brother's. 

Amb.   Our  brother's  ?     O  furies  !  8o 

Sup.   Plagues ! 

Amb.    Confusions  ! 

Sup.    Darkness  ! 

Amb.   Devils  ! 

Sup.   Fell  it  out  so  accursedly  ? 

Amb.    So  damnedly  ? 

Sup.   Villain,  I'll  brain  thee  with  it. 

Off.   0  my  good  lord  ! 

Sup.   The  devil  overtake  thee  ! 

Amb.   0 -fatal !  "  90 

Sup.   0  prodigious  to  our  bloods  ! 

Amb.   Did  we  dissemble ? 


SCENE  v]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  397 

Sup.    Did  we  make  our  tears  women  for  thee  ? 

Amb.   Laugh  and  rejoice  for  thee  ? 

Sup.   Bring  warrant  for  thy  death  ? 

Amb.   Mock  off  thy  head  ? 

Sup.   You  had  a  trick  :  you  had  a  wile,  forsooth. 

Amb.  A  murrain  meet  'em;  there's  none  of  these 
wiles  that  ever  come  to  good  :  I  see  now,  there's  nothing 
sure  in  mortality,  but  mortaUty.  100 

Well,  no  more  words:  shalt  be  revenged,  i'  faith. 
Come,  throw  ofT  clouds ;  now,  brother,  think  of  vengeance. 
And  deeper-settled  hate ;  sirrah,  sit  fast. 
We'll  pull  down  all,  but  thou  shalt  down  at  last. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  THE   FOURTH 

Scene  I 

The  Precincts  of  the  Palace 

Enter  Lussurioso  with  Hippolito 

Lus.   Hippolito  ! 

Hip.   My  lord, 
Has  your  good  lordship  aught  to  command  me  in  ? 

Lus.   I  prithee,  leave  us ! 

Hip.   How's  this  ?  come  and  leave  us  ! 

Lus.  Hippolito ! 

Hip.   Your  honour,  I  stand  ready  for  any  duteous 
employment. 

Lus.   Heart !   what  mak'st  thou  here  ? 

Hip.   A  pretty  lordly  humour  ! 
He  bids  me  be  present  to  depart ;  something 
Has  stung  his  honour.  lo 

Lus.   Be  nearer ;   draw  nearer : 
Ye're  not  so  good,  methinks ;  I'm  angry  with  you. 

Hip.   With  me,  my  lord  ?     I'm  angry  with  myself  for't. 

Lus.   You  did  prefer  a  goodly  fellow  to  me : 
'Twas  wittily  elected ;   'twas.     I  thought 
He  had  been  a  villain,  and  he  proves  a  knave  — 
To  me  a  knave. 

Hip.  I  chose  him  for  the  best,  my  lord : 

'Tis  much  my  sorrow,  if  neglect  in  him 
Breed  discontent  in  you. 

Lus.   Neglect !  'twas  will.     Judge  of  it.  20 

Firmly  to  tell  of  an  incredible  act, 

398 


SCENE  I]  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  399 

Not  to  be  thought,  less  to  be  spoken  of, 
'Tvvixt  my  stepmother  and  the  bastard ;  oh  ! 
Incestuous  sweets  between  'em. 

Hip.  Fie,  my  lord  ! 

Lus.   I,  in  kind  loyalty  to  my  father's  forehead, 
Made  this  a  desperate  arm  ;  and  in  that  fury 
Committed  treason  on  the  lawful  bed, 
And  with  my  sword  e'en  rased  my  father's  bosom, 
For  which  I  was  within  a  stroke  of  death." 

Hip.   Alack  !     I'm  sorry.  —  [Aside.]    'Sfoot,  just  upon 
the  stroke,  30 

Jars  in  my  brother ;  'twill  be  villainous  music. 

Enter  Vendice,  disguised 

Ven.   My  honoured  lord. 

Lus.   Away !     prithee,    forsake    us :     hereafter    we'll 
not  know  thee. 

Ven.    Not  know  me,  my  lord  !    your  lordship  cannot 
choose. 

Lus.   Begone,  I  say :  thou  art  a  false  knave. 

Ven.   Why,  the  easier  to  be  known,  my  lord. 

Lus.   Pish  !  I  shall  prove  too  bitter,  with  a  word 
Make  thee  a  perpetual  prisoner,  40 

And  lay  this  iron  age  upon  thee." 

Ven.    [Aside.]    Mum  ! 
For  there's  a  doom  would  make  a  woman  dumb. 
Missing    the    bastard  —  next    him  —  the    wind's    come 

about : 
Now  'tis  my  brother's  turn  to  stay,  mine  to  go  out.  [Exit. 

Lus.   He  has  greatly  moved  me.° 

Hip.  Much  to  blame,  i'  faith. 

Lus.   But  I'll  recover,  to  his  ruin.    'Twas  told  me  lately, 
I  know  not  whether  falsely,  that  you'd  a  brother. 

Hip.   Who,  I  ?  yes,  my  good  lord,  I  have  a  brother. 

Lus.   How  chance  the  court  ne'er  saw  him  ?   of  what 
nature  ?  5° 


400  THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

How  does  he  apply  his  hours  ? 

Hip.    Faith,  to  curse  fates 
Who,  as  he  thinks,  ordained  him  to  be  poor  — 
Keeps  at  home,  full  of  want  and  discontent. 

Lus.    [Aside.]   There's  hope  in  him ;  for  discontent  and 
want 
Is  the  best  clay  to  mould  a  villain  of.  — 
Hippolito,  wish  him  repair  to  us : 
If  there  be  ought  in  him  to  please  our  blood, 
For  thy  sake  we'll  advance  him,  and  build  fair 
His  meanest  fortunes ;  for  it  is  in  us  60 

To  rear  up  towers  from  cottages. 

Hip.   It  is  so,  my  lord  :  he  will  attend  your  honour ; 
But  he's  a  man  in  whom  much  melancholy  dwells. 

Lus.   Why,  the  better ;  bring  him  to  court. 

Hip.   With  willingness  and  speed.  — 
[Aside.]   Whom  he  cast  off  e'en  now,  must  now  succeed. 
Brother,  disguise  must  off ; 
In  thine  own  shape  now  I'll  prefer  thee  to  him  : 
How  strangely  does  himself  work  to  undo  him  !  "     [Exit. 

Lus.   This  fellow  will  come  fitly ;  he  shall  kill  70 

That  other  slave,  that  did  abuse  my  spleen. 
And  made  it  swell  to  treason.     I  have  put 
Much  of  my  heart  into  him  ;  he  must  die. 
He  that  knows  great  men's  secrets,  and  proves  sHght, 
That  man  ne'er  lives  to  see  his  beard  turn  white. 
Aye,  he  shall  speed  him  :  I'll  employ  the  brother ; 
Slaves  are  but  nails  to  drive  out  one  another. 
He  being  of  black  condition,"  suitable 
To  want  and  ill-content,  hope  of  preferment 
Will  grind  him  to  an  edge.  •    80 

Enter  Nobles 

15/  Noble.  Good  days  unto  your  honour. 
Lus.  My  kind  lords,  I  do  return  the  like. 
2nd  Noble.    Saw  you  my  lord  the  duke  ? 


SCENE  II]         THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  401 

Lus.    My  lord  and  father  !  is  he  from  court  ? 

15/  Noble.   He's  sure  from  court ; 
But  where  —  which  way  his  pleasure  took,  we  know  not, 
Nor  can  we  hear  oa't. 

Lus.  Here  come  those  should  tell. 

Saw  you  my  lord  and  father  ? 

yd  Noble.   Not  since  two  hours  before  noon,  my  lord, 
And  then  he  privately  rode  forth.  90 

Lus.   0,  he's  rid  forth. 

ist  Noble.  Twas  wondrous  privately. 

2nd  Noble.  There's  none  i'  th'  court  had  any  knowledge 
on't. 

Lus.   His  grace  is  old  and  sudden  :  'tis  no  treason 
To  say  the  duke,  my  father,  has  a  humour. 
Or  such  a  toy  about  him  ;  what  in  us 
Would  appear  light,  in  him  seems  virtuous. 

7,rd  Noble.    'Tis  oracle,  my  lord.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II 

An  Apartment  in  the  Palace 
Enter  Vendice,  out  of  his  disguise,  and  Hippolito 

Hip.   So,  so,  all's  as  it  should  be,  y'are  yourself. 

Ven.   How  that  great  villain  puts  me  to  my  shifts  ! 

Hip.    He  that  did  lately  in  disguise  reject  thee. 
Shall,  now  thou  art  thyself,  as  much  respect  thee. 

Ven.    'Twill  be  the  quainter  fallacy."     But,  brother, 
'Sfoot,  what  use  will  he  put  me  to  now,  think'st  thou  ? 

Hip.   Nay,  you  must  pardon  me  in  that :  I  know  not. 
He  has  some  employment  for  you  :  but  what  'tis. 
He  and  his  secretary  (the  devil)  know  best. 

Ven.   Well,  I  must  suit  my  tongue  to  his  desires,         10 
What  colour  soe'er  they  be  ;  hoping  at  last 
To  pile  up  all  my  wishes  on  his  breast. 

Hip.   Faith,  brother,  he  himself  shows  the  way. 


402  THE    REVENGER^S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

Ven.   Now  the  duke  is  dead,  the  realm  is  clad  in  clay." 
His  death  being  not  yet  known,  under  his  name 
The  people  still  are  governed.     Well,  thou  his  son 
Art  not  long-lived :  thou  shalt  not  joy  his  death. 
To  kill  thee,  then,  I  should  most  honour  thee; 
For  'twould  stand  firm  in  every  man's  belief, 
Thou'st  a  kind  child,  and  only  died'st  with  grief.  20 

Hip.   You  fetch  about  well ;  but  let's  talk  in  present^_ 
How  will  you  appear  in  fashion  different. 
As  well  as  in  apparel,  to  make  all  things  possible  ? 
If  you  be  but  once  tripped,  we  fall  for  ever. 
It  is  not  the  least  policy  to  be  doubtful ;  " 
You  must  change  tongue  :  familiar  was  your  first. 

Ven.   Why,  I'll  bear  me  in  some  strain  of  melancholy. 
And  string  myself  with  heavy-sounding  wire, 
Like  such  an  instrument,  that  speaks  merry  things  sadly. 

Hip.   Then  'tis  as  I  meant ;  3° 

I  gave  you  out  at  first  in  discontent. 

Ven.   I'll  tune  myself,  and  then  — 

Hip.    'Sfoot,  here  he  comes.     Hast  thought  upon't  ? 

Ven.    Salute  him ;  fear  not  me. 

Enter  Lussurioso 

Lus.  Hippolito ! 

Hip.   Your  lordship  — 

Lus.   What's  he  yonder  ? 

Hip.    'Tis  Vendice,  my  discontented  brother, 
Whom,  'cording  to  your  will,  I've  brought  to  court. 

Ltis.    Is  that  thy  brother  ?     Beshrew  me,  a  good  pres- 
ence; 
I  wonder  he  has  been  from  the  court  so  long.  4° 

Come  nearer. 

Hip.    Brother  !     Lord  Lussurioso,  the  duke's  son. 

Lus.   Be  more  near  to  us ;  welcome ;  nearer  yet. 

Ven.   How  don  you  ?  gi'  you  good  den." 

[Takes  of  his  hat  and  bows. 


SCENE  II]        THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  403 

Lus.   We  thank  thee. 
How  strangely  such  a  coarse  homely  salute 
Shows  in  the  palace,  where  we  greet  in  fire, 
Nimble  and  desperate  tongues  !  should  we  name 
God   in   a   salutation,"  'twould   ne'er   be   stood   on ;  — 

Heaven  ! 
Tell  me,  what  has  made  thee  so  melancholy  ?  so 

Ven.   Why,  going  to  law. 

Lus.   Why,  will  that  make  a  man  melancholy  ? 

Ven.  Yes,  to  look  long  upon  ink  and  black  buck- 
ram." I  went  me  to  law  in  anno  quadragesimo  secundo, 
and  I  waded  out  of  it  in  anno  sexagesimo  tertio. 

Lus.   What,  three-and-twenty  years  in  law  ? 

Ven.  I  have  known  those  that  have  been  five-and-fifty, 
and  all  about  pullen  and  pigs. 

Lus.    May  it  be  possible  such  men  should  breathe, 
To  vex  the  terms  °  so  much  ?  60 

Ven.  'Tis  food  to  some,  my  lord.  There  are  old 
men  at  the  present,  that  are  so  poisoned  with  the  affec- 
tation of  law- words  (having  had  many  suits  canvassed"), 
that  their  common  talk  is  nothing  but  Barbary  Latin. 
They  cannot  so  much  as  pray  but  in  law,  that  their  sins 
may  be  removed  with  a  writ  of  error,  and  their  souls 
fetched  up  to  Heaven  with  a  sasarara." 

Lus.   It  seems  most  strange  to  me ; 
Yet  all  the  world  meets  round  in  the  same  bent : 
Where  the  heart's  set,  there  goes  the  tongue's  consent.  7° 
How  dost  apply  thy  studies,  fellow  ? 

Ven.  Study?  why,  to  think  how  a  great  rich  man 
lies  a-dying,  and  a  poor  cobbler  tolls  the  bell  for  him. 
How  he  cannot  depart  the  world,  and  see  the  great  chest 
stand  before  him  ;  when  he  Ues  speechless,  how  he  will 
point  you  readily  to  all  the  boxes ;  and  when  he  is  past 
all  memory,  as  the  gossips  guess,  then  thinks  he  of  for- 
feitures and  obligations  ;  nay,  when  to  all  men's  hearings 
he  hurls  and  rattles  in  the  throat,  he's  busy  threatening 
his  poor  tenants.     And  this  would  last  me  now  some  seven 


404  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

years'  thinking,  or  thereabouts.  But  I  have  a  conceit 
a-coming  in  picture  upon  this  ;  I  draw  it  myself,  which,  i' 
faith,  la,  I'll  present  to  your  honour ;  you  shall  not  choose 
but  like  it,  for  your  honour  shall  give  me  nothing  for  it.  84 

Lus.   Nay,  you  mistake  me,  then, 
For  I  am  published  bountiful  enough. 
Let's  taste  of  your  conceit. 

Ven.   In  picture,  my  Lord  ? 

Lus.   Aye,  in  picture. 

Ven.  Marry,  this  it  is  —  "A  usuring  father  to  be 
boiling  in  hell,  and  his  son  and  heir  with  a  whore  dancing 
over  him."  92 

Hip.   [Aside.]   He  has  pared  him  to  the  quick. 

Lus.   The  conceit's  pretty,  i'  faith  ; 
But,  take't  upon  my  life,  'twill  ne'er  be  liked. 

Ven.  No  ?  why,  I'm  sure  the  whore  will  be  liked  well 
enough. 

Hip.  [Aside.]  Aye,  if  she  were  out  o'  the  picture,  he'd 
like  her  then  himself. 

Ven.  And  as  for  the  son  and  heir,  he  shall  be  an 
eyesore  to  no  young  revellers,  for  he  shall  be  drawn  in 
cloth-of-gold  breeches.  102 

Lus.   And  thou  hast  put  my  meaning  in  the  pockets. 
And  canst  not  draw  that  out  ?  °     My  thought  was  this : 
To  see  the  picture  of  a  usuring  father 
Boiling  in  hell  —  our  rich  men  would  never  like  it. 

Ven.   O,  true,  I  cry  you  heartily  mercy, 
I  know  the  reason,  for  some  of  them  had  rather 
Be  damned  in  deed  than  damned  in  colours. " 

Lus.  [Aside.]  A  parlous  melancholy!  he  has  wit  enough 
To  murder  any  man,  and  I'll  give  him  means.  —  m 

I  think  thou  art  ill-moneyed  ? 

Ven.   Money  !  ho,  ho  ! 
'T  has  been  my  want  so  long,  'tis  now  my  scoff : 
I've  e'en  forgot  what  colour  silver's  of. 

Lus.   [Aside.]   It  hits  as  I  could  wish. 

Ven.  I  get  good  clothes 


SCENE  II]         THE    REVENGER'S    TRACEDV  405 

Of  those  that  dread  my  humour ;  and  for  table-room 
I  feed  on  those  that  cannot  be  rid  of  me. 

Lus.    Somewhat  to  set  thee  up  withal. 

[Gives  him  money. 

Ven.   O  mine  eyes  !  120 

Lus.   How  now,  man  ? 

Ven.   Almost  struck  blind ; 
This  bright  unusual  shine  to  me  seems  proud  ; 
I  dare  not  look  till  the  sun  be  in  a  cloud. 

Lus.   I  think  I  shall  affect  his  melancholy, 
How  are  they  now  ? 

Ven.  The  better  for  your  asking. 

Lus.   You  shall  be  better  yet,  if  you  but  fasten 
Truly  on  my  intent.     Now  y'are  both  present, 
I  will  unbrace  such  a  close  private  villain 
Unto  your  vengeful  swords,  the  like  ne'er  heard  of,         130 
Who  hath  disgraced  you  much,  and  injured  us. 

Hip.   Disgraced  us,  my  lord  ? 

Lus.  Aye,  Hippolito. 

I  kept-it  here  till  now,  that  both  your  angers 
Might  meet  him  at  once. 

Ven.  I'm  covetous 

To  know  the  \dllain. 

Lus.   You  know  him  :  that  slave-pander, 
Piato,  whom  we  threatened  last 
With  irons  in  perpetual  'prisonment. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   All  this  is  I. 

Hip.   Is't  he,  my  lord  ?  14° 

Lus.   I'll  tell  you  ;  you  first  preferred  him  to  me. 

Ven.   Did  you,  brother  ? 

Hip.   I  did  indeed. 

Lus.   And  the  ungrateful  \allain, 
To  quit  that  kindness,  strongly  wrought  with  me  — 
Being,  as  you  see,  a  likely  man  for  pleasure  —  " 
With  jewels  to  corrupt  your  virgin  sister. 

Hip.   O  villain  ! 

Ven.  He  shall  surely  die  that  did  it. 


406  THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

Lus.   I,  far  from  thinking  any  virgin  harm, 
Especially  knowing  her  to  be  as  chaste  150 

As  that  part  which  scarce  suffers  to  be  touched  — 
The  eye  —  would  not  endure  him. 

Ven.  Would  you  not,  my  lord  ? 

'Twas  wondrous  honourably  done. 

Lus.   But  with  some  fine  frowns  kept  him  out. 

Ven.  Out,  slave  ! " 

Lus.   What  did  me  he,  but  in  revenge  of  that, 
Went  of  his  own  free  will  to  make  infirm 
Your  sister's  honour  (whom  I  honour  with  my  soul 
For  chaste  respect ")  and  not  prevailing  there 
(As  'twas  but  desperate  folly  to  attempt  it), 
In  mere  spleen,  by  the  way,  waylays  your  mother,         160 
Whose  honour  being  a  coward  as  it  seems. 
Yielded  by  little  force. 

Ven.  Coward  indeed  ! 

Lus.   He,  proud  of  this  advantage  (as  he  thought). 
Brought  me  this  news  for  happy.     But  I,  Heaven  for- 
give me  f or't !  — 

Ven.   What  did  your  honour  ? 

Lus.  In  rage  pushed  him  from  me. 

Trampled    beneath     his     throat,     spurned     him,     and 

bruised : 
Indeed  I  was  too  cruel,  to  say  troth. 

Hip.   Most  nobly  managed  ! 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Has  not  Heaven  an  ear  ?  is  all  the  light- 
ning wasted  ? 

Lus.   If  I  now  were  so  impatient  in  a  modest  cause,  170 
What  should  you  be  ? 

Ven.  Full  mad  :  he  shall  not  live 

To  see  the  moon  change. 

Lus.  He's  about  the  palace ; 

Hippolito,  entice  him  this  way,  that  thy  brother 
May  take  full  mark  of  him. 

Hip.   Heart !  that  shall  not  need,  my  lord : 
I  can  direct  him  so  far. 


SCENE  ii]         THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  407 

Ltis.    Yet  for  my  hate's  sake, 
Go,  wind  him  this  way.     I'll  see  him  bleed  myself. 

Ilip.    [Aside.]    What  now,  brother  ? 

Ven.    [Aside]   Nay,  e'en  what  you  will  —  y'are  put 
to't,  brother.  180 

Hip.    [Aside.]   An  impossible  task,  I'll  swear, 
To  bring  him  hither,  that's  already  here.  [Exit. 

Lus.   Thy  name  ?  I  have  forgot  it. 

Veil.  Vendicc,  my  lord. 

Lus.   'Tis  a  good  name  that. 

Ven.  Aye,  a  revenger. 

Lus.   It  does  betoken  courage ;  thou  shouldst  be  val- 
iant, 
And  kill  thine  enemies. 

Ven.  That's  my  hope,  my  lord. 

Lus.   This  slave  is  one. 

Ven.  I'll  doom  him. 

Lus.  Then  I'll  praise  thee. 

Do  thou  observe  me  best,  and  I'll  best  raise  thee. 

Re-enter  Hippolito 

Ven.   Indeed,  I  thank  you. 

Lus.   Now,  Hippolito,  where's  the  slave-pander  ?      190 

Hip.   Your  good  lordship 
Would  have  a  loathsome  sight  of  him,  much  oflfensive. 
He's  not  in  case  now  to  be  seen,  my  lord. 
The  worst  of  all  the  deadly  sins  is  in  him  — 
That  beggarly  damnation,  drunkenness. 

Lus.   Then  he's  a  double  slave. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   'Twas  well  conveyed  upon  a  sudden  wit. 

Lus.   What,  are  you  both 
Firmly  resolved  ?     I'll  see  him  dead  myself. 

Ven.   Or  else  let  not  us  live.  200 

Lus.   You  may  direct  your  brother  to  take  note  of  him. 

Hip.   I  shall. 

Lus.    Rise  but  in  this,  and  you  shall  never  fall. 


408  THE   REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

Ven.   Your  honour's  vassals. 

Lus.   [Aside.]  This  was  wisely  carried. 

Deep  policy  in  us  makes  fools  of  such  : 
Then  must  a  slave  die,  when  he  knows  too  much.    [Exit. 

Ven.   O  thou  almighty  patience  !   'tis  my  wonder 
That  such  a  fellow,  impudent  and  wicked, 
Should  not  be  cloven  as  he  stood ; 

Or  with  a  secret  wind  burst  open  !  210 

Is  there  no  thunder  left :  or  is't  kept  up 
In  stock  for  heavier  vengeance  ?   [Thunder]   there  it  goes  ! 

Hip.   Brother,  we  lose  ourselves. 

Ven.  But  I  have  found  it ;  ° 

'Twill  hold,  'tis  sure ;  thanks,  thanks  to  any  spirit, 
That  mingled  it  'mongst  my  inventions. 

Hip.   What  is't? 

Ven.   'Tis  sound  and  good ;  thou  shalt  partake  it ; 
I'm  hired  to  kill  myself. 

Hip.  True. 

Ven.  Prithee,  mark  it ; 

And  the  old  duke  being  dead,  but  not  conveyed," 
For  he's  already  missed  too,  and  you  know  220 

Murder  will  peep  out  of  the  closest  husk  — 

Hip.   Most  true. 

Ven.  What  say  you  then  to  this  device  ? 

If  we  dressed  up  the  body  of  the  duke  ? 

Hip.   In  that  disguise  of  yours  ? 

Ven.   Y'are  quick,  y'  have  reached  it. 

Hip.  I  like  it  wondrously. 

Ven.   And  being  in  drink,  as  you  have  published  him. 
To  lean  him  on  his  elbow,  as  if  sleep  had  caught  him 
Which  claims  most  interest  in  such  sluggy  men  ? 

Hip.    Good  yet ;  but  here's  a  doubt ; 
We,  thought  l)y  the  duke's  son  to  kill  that  pander,        230 
Shall,  when  he  is  known,  be  thought  to  kill  the  duke. 

Ven.    Neither,  0  thanks  !  it  is  substantial :  ° 
For  that  disguise  being  on  him  which  I  wore. 
It  will  be  thought  I,  which  he  calls  the  pander,  did  kill 


SCENE  III]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  4(39 

the  duke,  and  fled  away  in  his  apparel,  leaving  him  so  dis- 
guised to  avoid  swift  pursuit. 

Hip.   Firmer  and  firmer. 

Vcn.  Nay,  doubt  not,  'tis  in  grain : "  I  warrant  it 
holds  colour. 

Hip.   Let's  about  it. 

Ven.  By  the  way,  too,  now  I  think  on't,  brother,  240 
Let's  conjure  that  base  devil  out  of  our  mother.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III 
A  Corridor  in  the  Palace 

Enter  the  Duchess,  arm  in  arm  ivith  Spurio,  looking 
lasciviously  on  her.  After  them,  enter  Supervacuo, 
with  a  rapier,  running ;  Ambitioso  stops  him 

Spu.   Madam,  unlock  yourself ; 
Should  it  be  seen,  your  arm  would  be  suspected. 

Duch.   Who  is't  that  dares  suspect  or  this  or  these  ? 
May  not  we  deal  our  favours  where  we  please  ? 

Spu.   I'm  confident  you  may." 

[Exeunt  Duchess  and  Spurio. 

Amb.  'Sfoot,  brother,  hold. 

Sup.   Wouldst  let  the  bastard  shame  us  ? 

Amb.  Hold,  hold,  brother  !  there's  fitter  time  than 
now. 

Sup.   Now,  when  I  see  it ! 

Amb.   'Tis  too  much  seen  already. 

Sup.  Seen  and  known  ; 

The  nobler  she's,  the  baser  is  she  grown.  10 

Amb.   If  she  were  bent  lasciviously  (the  fault 
Of  mighty  women,  that  sleep  soft")  —  O  death  I 
Must  she  needs  choose  such  an  unequal  sinner. 
To  make  all  worse  ?  — 

Sup.  A  bastard  !  the  duke's  bastard  !  shame  heaped 
on  shame ! 


410  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

Amb.   O  our  disgrace  ! 
Most  women  have  small  waists  the  world  throughout ; 
But  their  desires  are  thousand  miles  about. 

Sup.    Come,  stay  not  here,  let's  after,  and  prevent, 
Or  else  they'll  sin  faster  than  we'll  repent.     [Exeunt.      20 

Scene  IV 

A  Room  in  Gratiana's  House 

Enter  Vendice  and  Hippolito,  bringing  out  Gratiana 
by  the  shoulders,  and  with  daggers  in  their  hands 

Ven.   O  thou,  for  whom  no  name  is  bad  enough  ! 

Gra.   What  mean  my  sons  ?  what,  will  you  murder  me? 

Ven.   Wicked,  unnatural  parent ! 

Hip.  Fiend  of  women  ! 

Gra.   O  !   are  sons  turned  monsters  ?   help  ! 

Ven.  In  vain. 

Gra.   Are  you  so  barbarous  to  set  iron  nipples  " 
Upon  the  breast  that  gave  you  suck  ? 

Ven.  That  breast 

Is  turned  to  quarled  poison." 

Gra.    Cut  not  your  days  for't !  "  am  not  I  your  mother  ? 

Yen.   Thou  dost  usurp  that  title  now  by  fraud, 
For  in  that  shell  of  mother  breeds  a  bawd.  10 

Gra.   A  bawd  !     O  name  far  loathsomer  than  hell ! 

Hip.   It  should  be  so,  knew'st  thou  thy  office  well. 

Gra.   I  hate  it. 

Ven.   Ah  !  is't  possible  ?  thou  only  ?  "  Powers  on  high, 
That  women  should  dissemble  when  they  die  ! 

Gra.    Dissemble  ! 

Ven.  Did  not  the  duke's  son  direct 

A  fellow  of  the  world's  condition  hither, 
That  did  corrupt  all  that  was  good  in  thee  ? 
Made  thee  uncivilly  forget  thyself. 
And  work  our  sister  to  his  lust  ? 


SCENE  IV]       THE   REVENGEirS   TRAGEDY  411 

Gra.  Who,  I  ? 

That  had  been  monstrous.     I  defy  that  man 
For  any  such  intent !  none  lives  so  pure, 
But  shall  be  soiled  with  slander.     Good  son,  believe  it  not. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   O,  I'm  in  doubt, 
Whether  I  am  myself,  or  no  — 
Stay,  let  me  look  again  upon  this  face. 
Who  shall  be  saved,  when  mothers  have  no  grace? 

11  ip.    'Twould  make  one  half  despair. 

Ven.  I  was  the  man. 

Defy  me  now ;  let's  see,  do't  modestly. 

Gra.   0  hell  unto  my  soul !  3° 

Ven.   In  that  disguise,  I,  sent  from  the  duke's  son, 
Tried  you,  and  found  you  base  metal, 
As  any  villain  might  have  done. 

Gra.  O,  no. 

No  tongue  but  yours  could  have  bewitched  me  so. 

Ven.   O  nimble  in  damnation,  quick  in  tune  ! 
There  is  no  de\'il  could  strike  fire  so  soon  : 
I  am  confuted  in  a  word. 

Gra.  O  sons,  forgive  me  !  to  myself  I'll  prove  more 
true; 
You  that  should  honour  me,  I  kneel  to  you. 

[Kneels  and  weeps. 

Ven.   A  mother  to  give  aim  to  her  own  daughter  !       40 

Hip.   True,  brother ;  how  far  beyond  nature  'tis. 

Ven.   Nay,  an  you  draw  tears  once,  go  you  to  bed  ; 
We  will  make  iron  blush  and  change  to  red. 
Brother,  it  rains.     'Twill  spoil  your  dagger  :  house  it. 

Hip.    'Tis  done. 

Ven.   V  faith,  'tis  a  sweet  shower,  it  does  much  good. 
The  fruitful  grounds  and  meadows  of  her  soul 
Have  been  long  dry  :  pour  down,  thou  blessed  dew  ! 
Rise,  mother ;  troth,  this  shower  has  made  you  higher  I 

Gra.   O  you  Heavens  !    take  this  infectious  spot  out 
of  my  soul,  so 

I'll  rinse  it  in  seven  waters  of  mine  eyes  ! 


412  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

Make  my  tears  salt  enough  to  taste  of  grace. 

To  weep  is  to  our  sex  naturally  given  : 

But  to  weep  truly,  that's  a  gift  from  Heaven. 

Ven.   Nay,  I'll  kiss  you  now.     Kiss  her,  brother : 
Let's  marry  her  to  our  souls,  wherein's  no  lust, 
And  honourably  love  her. 

Hip.  Let  it  be. 

Ven.   For  honest  women  are  so  seld  and  rare, 
'Tis  good  to  cherish  those  poor  few  that  are. 

0  you  of  easy  wax  !  °  do  but  imagine  60 
Now  the  disease  has  left  you,  how  leprously 

That  office  would  have  dinged  unto  your  forehead  ! 
All  mothers  that  had  any  graceful  hue 
Would  have  worn  masks  to  hide  their  face  at  you  : 
It  would  have  grown  to  this  —  at  your  foul  name, 
Green-coloured    maids"   would    have    turned    red  with 
shame. 

Hip.   And  then  our  sister,  full  of  hire  and  baseness  — 

Ven.   There  had  been  boiling  lead  again, 
The  duke's  son's  great  concubine  ! 

A  drab  of  state,  a  cloth-o'-silver  slut,  70 

To  have  her  train  borne  up,  and  her  soul  trail  i'  the  dirt! 

Hip.   Great,  to  be  miserably  great ;   rich,  to  be  eter- 
nally wretched. 

Ven.   O  common  madness  ! 
Ask  but  the  thrivingest  harlot  in  cold  blood, 
She'd  give  the  world  to  make  her  honour  good. 
Perhaps  you'll  say,  but  only  to  the  duke's  son 
In  private ;  why  she  first  begins  with  one. 
Who  afterward  to  thousands  prove  a  whore : 
"Break  ice  in  one  place,  it  will  crack  in  more." 

Gra.   Most  certainly  applied  !  80 

Hip.   O  brother,  you  forget  our  business. 

Ven.   And  well  remembered ;  joy's  a  subtle  elf," 

1  think  man's  happiest  when  he  forgets  himself. 
Farewell,  once  dry,  now  holy-watered  mead  ;" 
Our  hearts  wear  feathers,  that  before  wore  lead. 


SCENE  IV]       THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  413 

Gra.   I'll  give  you  this  —  that  one  I  never  knew 
Plead  better  for  and  'gainst  the  devil  than  you. 

Ven.    You  make  me  proud  on't. 

Hip.    Commend  us  in  all  virtue  to  our  sister. 

Ven.  Aye,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  to  that  true  maid.    90 

Gra.   With  my  best  words. 

Ven.  Why,  that  was  motherly  said. 

[Exeunt  Vendice  and  Hippolito. 

Gra.   I  wonder  now,  what  fury  did  transport  me  ! 
I  feel  good  thoughts  begin  to  settle  in  me. 
0,  with  what  forehead  can  I  look  on  her. 
Whose  honour  I've  so  impiously  beset  ? 
And  here  she  comes  — 

Enter  Castiza 

Cas.   Now,   mother,  you  have  wrought  with  me  so 
strongly. 
That  what  for  my  advancement,  as  to  calm 
The  trouble  of  your  tongue,  I  am  content. 

Gra.    Content,  to  what  ? 

Cas.  To  do  as  you  have  wished  me ; 

To  prostitute  my  breast  to  the  duke's  son  ;  loi 

And  put  myself  to  common  usury. 

Gra.   I  hope  you  will  not  so  ! 

Cas.  Hope  you  I  will  not  ? 

That's  not  the  hope  you  look  to  be  saved  in. 

Gra.    Truth,  but  it  is. 

Cas.  Do  not  deceive  yourself ; 

I  am  as  you,  e'en  out  of  marble  wrought. 
What  would  you  now  ?  are  ye  not  pleased  yet  with  me  ? 
You  shall  not  wish  me  to  l)e  more  lascivious 
Than  I  intend  to  be. 

Gra.  Strike  not  me  cold. 

Cas.   How  often  have  you  charged  me  on  your  blessing 
To  be  a  cursed  woman  ?     When  you  knew  1 1 1 

Your  blessing  had  no  force  to  make  me  lewd, 


414  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  iv 

You  laid  your  curse  upon  me ;  that  did  more, 
The  mother's  curse  is  heavy ;  where  that  fights, 
Suns  set  in  storm,  and  daughters  lose  their  lights. 

Gra.    Good  child,  dear  maid,  if  there  be  any  spark 
Of  heavenly  intellectual  fire  within  thee, 
O,  let  my  breath  revive  it  to  a  flame  ! 
Put  not  all  out  with  woman's  wilful  follies. 
I  am  recovered  of  that  foul  disease,  120 

That  haunts  too  many  mothers ;  kind,  forgive  me. 
Make  me  not  sick  in  health  !     If  then 
My  words  prevailed,  when  they  were  wickedness. 
How  much  more  now,  when  they  are  just  and  good  ? 

Cas.   I  wonder  what  you  mean  !  are  not  you  she, 
For  whose  infect  persuasions  I  could  scarce 
Kneel  out  my  prayers,  and  had  much  ado 
In  three  hours'  reading  to  untwist  so  much 
Of  the  black  serpent  as  you  wound  about  me  ? 

Gra.    'Tis  unfruitful,  child,  and  tedious  to  repeat        130 
What's  past ;  I'm  now  your  present  mother. 

Cas.   Tush  !  now  'tis  too  late. 

Gra.  Bethink  again :  thou  know'st  not  what  thou  say 'st. 

Cas.   No  !   deny  advancement  ?   treasure  ?   the  duke's 
son? 

Gra.   O,  see !     I  spoke  those  words,  and  now  they 
poison  me  ! 
What  will  the  deed  do  then  ? 
Advancement  ?  true  ;  as  high  as  shame  can  pitch  ! 
For  treasure ;  who  e'er  knew  a  harlot  rich  ? 
Or  could  build  by  the  purchase  of  her  sin 
An  hospital  to  keep  her  bastards  in  ?  140 

The  duke's  son  !     O,  when  women  are  young  courtiers 
They  are  sure  to  be  old  beggars  ; 
To  know  the  miseries  most  harlots  taste, 
Thou'dst  wish  thyself  unborn,  when  thou  art  unchaste. 

Cas.   O  mother,  let  me  twine  about  your  neck, 
And  kiss  you,  till  my  soul  melt  on  your  lips  ! 
I  did  but  this  to  try  you. 


SCENE  IV]       THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  415 

Gra.  0,  speak  truth  ! 

Cas.    Indeed  I  did  but ;  for  no  tongue  has  force 
To  alter  me  from  honest. 

If  maidens  would,  men's  words  could  have  no  power  ;    150 
A  virgin's  honour  is  a  crystal  tower 
Which  (being  weak)  is  guarded  with  good  spirits ; 
Until  she  basely  yields,  no  ill  inherits. 

Gra.   O  happy  child  !   faith,  and 'thy  birth  hath  saved 
me! 
'Mong  thousand  daughters,  happiest  of  all  others  : 
Be  thou  a  glass  for  maids,  and  I  for  mothers.     [Exeunt. 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 

Scene  I 

A  Room  in  the  Lodge.     The  Duke's  corpse,  dressed  in 
Vendice's  disguise,  lying  on  a  couch 

Enter  Vendice  and  Hippolito 

Ven.    So,  so,  he  leans  well ;    take  heed  you  wake  him 
not,  brother. 

Hip.   I  warrant  you  my  life  for  yours. 

Ven.  That's  a  good  lay,  for  I  must  kill  myself. 
Brother,  that's  I,  that  sits  for  me :  do  you  mark  it  ? 
And  I  must  stand  ready  here  to  make  away  myself  yonder. 
I  must  sit  to  be  killed,  and  stand  to  kill  myself.  I  could 
vary  it  not  so  little  as  thrice  over  again  ;  't  has  some  eight 
returns,  like  Michaelmas  term. 

Hip.   That's  enow,  o'  conscience. 

Ven.   But,  sirrah,  does  the  duke's  son  come  single  ?    lo 

Hip.  No ;  there's  the  hell  on't :  his  faith's  too  feeble 
to  go  alone.  He  brings  flesh-flies  after  him,  that  will 
buzz  against  supper-time,  and  hum  for  his  coming  out. 

Ven.  Ah,  the  fly-flap  of  vengeance  beat  'em  to  pieces! 
Here  was  the  sweetest  occasion,  the  fittest  hour,  to  have 
made  my  revenge  familiar  with  him  ;  show  him  the  body 
of  the  duke  his  father,  and  how  quaintly  he  died,  like  a 
politician,  in  hugger-mugger,  made  no  man  acquainted 
with  it ;  and  in  .catastrophe  slay  him  over  his  father's 
breast.     0,  I'm  mad  to  lose  such  a  sweet  opportunity  !  20 

Hip.  Nay,  tush !  prithee,  be  content !  there's  no 
remedy  present ;  may  not  hereafter  times  open  in  as  fair 
faces  as  this  ? 

416 


SCENE  I]         THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  417 

Ven.   They  may,  if  they  can  paint  so  well. 

Ilip.  Come  now :  to  avoid  all  suspicion,  let's  forsake 
this  room,  and  be  going  to  meet  the  duke's  son. 

Ven.  Content :  I'm  for  any  weather.  Heart !  step 
close  :  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Lussurioso 

Hip.   My  honoured  lord  ! 

Lus.   0  me  !  you  both  present  ?  30 

Ven.  E'en  newly,  my  lord,  just  as  your  lordship 
entered  now :  about  this  place  we  had  notice  given  he 
should  be,  but  in  some  loathsome  plight  or  other. 

Hip.   Came  your  honour  private  ? 

Lus.   Private  enough  for  this ;  only  a  few 
Attend  my  coming  out. 

Hip.    [Aside.]  Death  rot  those  few  ! 

Lus.   Stay,  yonder's  the  slave. 

Ven.  [Aside.]  Mass,  there's  the  slave,  indeed,  my  lord. 
'Tis  a  good  child  :  he  calls  his  father  a  slave  ! 

Lus.  Aye,  that's  the  villain,  the  damned  villain.  40 
Softly.     Tread  easy. 

Ven.   Pah  !     I  warrant  you,  my  lord,  we'll  stifle-in  our 
breaths. 

Lus.   That  will  do  well : 
Base  rogue,  thou  sleepest  thy  last ;  'tis  policy 
To  have  him  killed  in's  sleep ;  for  if  he  waked, 
He  would  betray  all  to  them. 

Ven.  But,  my  lord  — 

Lus.   Ha,  what  say'st  ? 

Ven.   Shall  we  kill  him  now  he's  drunk  ? 

Lus.   Aye,  best  of  all. 

Ven.   WTiy,  then  he  will  ne'er  live  to  be  sober.  50 

Lus.   No  matter,  let  him  reel  to  hell. 

Ven.  But  being  so  full  of  Hquor,  I  fear  he  will  put  out 
all  the  fire. 

Lus.   Thou  art  a  mad  beast. 


41 8  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  v 

Ven.  And  leave  none  to  warm  your  lordship's,  golls 
withal;  for  he  that  dies  drunk  falls  into  hell-fire  hke  a 
bucket  of  water  —  qush,  qush  ! 

Lus.  Come,  be  ready :  nake  your  swords :  think  of 
your  wrongs ;  this  slave  has  injured  you. 

Ven.   Troth,  so  he  has,  and  he  has  paid  well  for't.        60 

Ljis.   Meet  with  him  now. 

Ven.  You'll  bear  us  out,  my  lord  ? 

Lus.  Pooh  !  am  I  a  lord  for  nothing,  think  you  ? 
quickly  now  ! 

Ven.    Sa,  sa,  sa,°  thump  [Stabs  the  Duke's  corpse]  — 
there  he  lies. 

Lus.   Nimbly  done.  —  Ha  !  O  villains  !  murderers  ! 
'Tis  the  old  duke,  my  father. 

Ven.   That's  a  jest. 

Lus.   What  stiff  and  cold  already  ! 
O,  pardon  me  to  call  you  from  your  names : 
'Tis  none  of  your  deed.     That  villain  Piato,  7° 

Whom  you  thought  now  to  kill,  has  murdered 
And  left  him  thus  disguised. 

Hip.  And  not  unlikely. 

Ven.   O  rascal  I  was  he  not  ashamed 
X^  To  put  the  duke  into  a  greasy  doublet  ? 

Lt{s.   He  has  been  stiff  and  cold  —  who  knows  how 
long? 

Ven.    [Aside.]  Marry,  that  I  do. 

Lus.   No  words,  I  pray,  of  anything  intended. 

Ven.   O  my  lord  ! 

Hip.  I  would  fain  have  your  lordship  think  that  we 
have  small  reason  to  prate.  So 

Lus.   Faith,  thou  say 'st  true;  I '11  forthwith  send  to  court 
For  all  the  nobles,  bastard,  duchess ;  tell, 
How  here  by  miracle  we  found  him  dead, 
And  in  his  raiment  that  foul  villain  fled. 

Ven.   That  will  be  the  best  way,  my  lord, 
To  clear  us  all ;  let's  cast  about  to  be  clear. 

Lus.   Ho  !  Nencio,  Sordido,  and  the  rest ! 


SCENE  I]    *    THE    REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  419 

Enter  all  of  them 

1st  Ser,   My  lord  ! 

2nd  Ser.   My  lord  ! 

Lhs.   Be  witnesses  of  a  strange  spectacle.  90 

Choosing  for  private  conference  that  sad  room, 
We  found  the  duke  my  father  gealed  in  blood. 

15/  Ser.   My  lord  the  duke  !  run,  hie  thee,  Nencio. 
Startle  the  court  by  signifying  so  much. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Thus   much   by   wit   a   deep   revenger 
can, 
When  murder's  known,  to  be  the  clearest  man.° 
We're  farthest  off,  and  with  as  bold  an  eye 
Survey  his  body  as  the  standers-by. 

Lus.   My  royal  father,  too  basely  let  blood 
By  a  malevolent  slave  !  100 

Hip.    [Aside.]   Hark  !  he  calls  thee  slave  again. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   He  has  lost :  he  may. 

Ltis.   O  sight !  look  hither,  see,  his  lips  are  gnawn 
With  poison. 

Veil.  How  !  his  lips  ?  by  the  mass,  they  be. 

0  villain  !  O  rogue  !  O  slave  !  O  rs^cal ! 

Hip.   [Aside.]   O  good  deceit !   he  quits  him  with  like 
terms. 

Amb.   [Within.]   Where? 

Sup.   [Within.]   Which  way  ? 

Enter  Ambitioso  a)id   Supervacuo,   with  Nobles  and 
Gentlemen 

Amb.  Over  what  roof  hangs  this  prodigious  comet 
In  deadly  fire?  "  no 

Lus.  Behold,  behold,  my  lords,  the  duke  my  father's 
murdered  by  a  vassal  that  owes  this  habit,  and  here  left 
disguised. 


420  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY    *        [act  v 

Enter  Duchess  and  Spurio 

Duch.   My  lord  and  husband ! 

ist  Noble.  Reverend  majesty  ! 

2nd  Noble.   I  have  seen  these  clothes  often  attending  on 
him. 

Ven.  [Aside.]  That  nobleman  has  been  i'  th'  country,  for 
He  does  not  lie. 

Sup.   Learn  of  our  mother ;  let's  dissemble  too  : 
I  am  glad  he's  vanished  ;  so,  I  hope,  are  you. 

Amb.   Aye,  you  may  take  my  word  for't. 

Spu.  Old  dad  dead  ! 

I,  one  of  his  cast  sins,  will  send  the  Fates  121 

Most  hearty  commendations  by  his  own  son ; 
I'll  tug  in  the  new  stream,  till  strength  be  done. 

Lus.   Where  be  those  two  that  did  aflfirm  to  us, 
My  lord  the  duke  was  privately  rid  forth  ? 

1st   Gent.   0,    pardon   us,    my   lords ;    he   gave   that 
charge  — ■ 
Upon  our  lives,  if  he  were  missed  at  court, 
To  answer  so  ;  he  rod«  not  anywhere ; 
We  left  him  private  with  that  fellow  here. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Confirmed.  130 

Lus.   O  Heavens  !  that  false  charge  was  his  death. 
Impudent  beggars  !  durst  you  to  our  face 
Maintain  such  a  false  answer  ?     Bear  him  straight 
To  execution. 

1st  Gent.   My  lord  ! 

Lus.   Urge  me  no  more  in  this  ! 
The  excuse  may  be  called  half  the  murder. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   You've  sentenced  well. 

Lus.  Away ;  see  it  be  done. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Could  you  not  stick?"     See  what  con- 
fession doth  ! 
Who  would  not  lie,  when  men  are  hanged  for  truth  ?     140 

Hip.  {Aside.]   Brother,  how  happy  is  our  vengeance  ! 


SCENE  I]         THE    REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY  42 1 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Why,  it  hits  past  the  apprehension  of 
Indifferent  wits. 

Lus.    My  lord,  let  post-horses  be  sent 
Into  all  places  to  entrap  the  villain. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Post-horses,  ha,  ha  ! 

ist  Noble.    My  lord,  we're  something  bold  to  know  our 
duty. 
Your  father's  accidentally  departed  ; 
The  titles  that  were  due  to  him  meet  you. 

Lus.   [Aside.]   Meet  me  !     I'm  not  at  leisure,  my  good 
lord.  150 

I've  many  griefs  to  dispatch  out  o'  the  way. 
Welcome,  sweet  titles  !  — 
Talk  to  me,  my  lords. 

Of  sepulchres  and  mighty  emperors'  bones ; 
That's  thought  for  me. 

Ven.   [Aside.]  So  one  may  see  by  this 

How  foreign  markets  go  ; 

Courtiers  have  feet  o'  the  nines,  and  tongues  o'  the  twelves; 
They  flatter  dukes,  and  dukes  flatter  themselves. 

2nd  Noble.    My  lord,  it  is  your  shine  must  comfort  us. 

Lus.   Alas  !     I  shine  in  tears,  like  the  sun  in  April.     160 

1st  Noble.   You're  now  my  lord's  grace. 

Lus.   My  lord's  grace  !     I  perceive  you'll  hav^e  it  so. 

2nd  Noble.    'Tis  but  your  own. 

Lus.   Then,  Heavens,  give  me  grace  to  be  so  ! 

Ven.    [Aside.]   He  prays  well  for  himself. 

1st  Noble.   Madam,  all  sorrows 
IVIust  run  their  circles  into  joys.     No  doubt  but  time 
Will  make  the  murderer  bring  forth  himself. 

Ven.   [Aside.]   He  were  an  ass  then,  i'  faith. 

1st  Noble.   In  the  mean  season,  170 

Let  us  bethink  the  latest  funeral  honours 
Due  to  the  duke's  cold  body.     And  withal. 
Calling  to  memory  our  new  happiness 
Speed  in  his  royal  son  :  lords,  gentlemen, 
Prepare  for  revels. 


422  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  v 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Revels  ! 

15/  Noble.   Time  hath  several  falls. 
Griefs  lift  up  joys :  feasts  put  down  funerals. 

Lus.   Come  then,  my  lords,  my  favour's  to  you  all.  — 
[Aside.]   The  duchess  is  suspected  foully  bent ;  i8o 

I'll  begin  dukedom  with  her  banishment. 

[Exeunt  Lussurioso,  Duchess,  and  Nobles. 

Hip.   Revels  ! 

Ven.  Aye,  that's  the  word  :  we  are  firm  yet ; 

Strike  one  strain  more,  and  then  we  crown  our  wit. 

[Exeimt  Vendice  and  Hippolito. 

Spu.   Well,  have  at  the  fairest  mark  —  so  said  the 
duke  when  he  begot  me ; 
And  if  I  miss  his  heart,"  or  near  about. 
Then  have  at  any ;  a  bastard  scorns  to  be  out.         [Exit. 

Sup.   Notest  thou  that  Spurio,  brother  ? 

Ajnb.    Yes,  I  note  him  to  our  shame. 

Sicp.  He  shall  not  live :  his  hair  shall  not  grow  much 
longer.  In  this  time  of  revels,  tricks  may  be  set  afoot. 
Seest  thou  yon  new  moon  ?  it  shall  outlive  the  new  duke 
by  much ;  this  hand  shall  dispossess  him.  Then  we're 
mighty.  193 

A  mask  is  treason's  licence,  that  build  upon  :  ° 

'Tis  murder's  best  face,  when  a  vizard's  on.         [Exit. 

Amb.   Is't  so  ?  'tis  very  good  ! 
And  do  you  think  to  be  duke  then,  kind  brother  ? 
I'll  see  fair  play ;  drop  one,  and  there  lies  t'other.     [Exit. 

Scene  II 

A  Room  in  Piero's  House 

Enter  Vendice  and    Hippolito,  with  Piero  and  other 
Lords 

Ven.   My  lords,  be  all  of  music,  strike  old  griefs  into 
other  countries 


SCENE  II]        THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  423 

That  flow  in  too  much  milk,"  and  have  faint  Uvers, 
Not  daring  to  stab  home  their  discontents. 
Let  our  hid  flames  break  out  as  fire,  as  Ughtning, 
To  blast  this  \allainous  dukedom,  vexed  with  sin ; 
Wind  up  your  souls  to  their  full  height  again. 

Picro.   How  ? 

15/  Lord.         Which  way  ? 

2}id  Lord.  Any  way :  our  wrongs  are  such, 

We  cannot  justly  be  revenged  too  much. 

Ven.   You  shall  have  all  enough.     Revels  are  toward. 
And  those  few  nobles  that  have  long  suppressed  you,      10 
Are  busied  to  the  furnishing  of  a  masque. 
And  do  afl'ect  to  make  a  pleasant  tale  on't : 
The  masquing  suits  are  fashioning :  now  comes  in 
That  which  must  glad  us  all.     We  too  take  pattern 
Of  all  those  suits,  the  colour,  trimming,  fashion. 
E'en  to  an  undistinguished  hair  almost : 
Then  entering  first,  observing  the  true  form, 
Within  a  strain  or  two  we  shall  find  leisure 
To  steal  our  swords  out  handsomely ; 
And  when  they  think  their  pleasure  sweet  and  good,       20 
In  midst  of  all  their  joys  they  shall  sigh  blood. 

Piero.   Weightily,  effectually  ! 

yd  Lord.   Before  the  t'other  maskers  come  — 

Ven.   We're  gone,  all  done  and  past. 

Piero.   But  how  for  the  duke's  guard  ? 

Ven.   Let  that  alone ; 
By  one  and  one  their  strengths  shall  be  drunk  down. 

Hip.   There  are  five  hundred  gentlemen  in  the  action. 
That  will  apply  themselves,  and  not  stand  idle. 

Piero.   O,  let  us  hug  your  bosoms  !  3° 

Ven.    Come,  my  lords, 
Prepare  for  deeds :  let  other  times  have  words.      [Exeunt. 


424  THE    REVENGER^S   TRAGEDY  [act  v 

Scene  III 

Hall  of  State  in  the  Palace 

In  a  dumb  show,  the  possessing  of  the  Young  Duke  with 
all  his  Nobles ;  sounding  music.  A  furnished  table  is 
brought  forth;  then  enter  the  Duke  and  his  Nobles  to 
the  banquet.     A  blazing  star  appeareth 

ist    Noble.   Many    harmonious    hours    and    choicest 
pleasures 
Fill  up  the  royal  number  of  your  years  ! 

Lus.   My  lords,  we're  pleased  to  thank  you,  though  we 
know 
'Tis  but  your  duty  now  to  wish  it  so. 

15/  Noble.   That  shine  °  makes  us  all  happy. 

2,rd  Noble.  His  grace  frowns. 

2nd  Noble.    Yet  we  must  say  he  smiles. 

15/  Noble.  I  think  we  must. 

Lus.    [Aside.]   That  foul  incontinent  duchess  we  have 
banished ; 
The  bastard  shall  not  live.     After  these  revels, 
I'll  begin  strange  ones :  he  and  the  stepsons 
Shall  pay  their  lives  for  the  first  subsidies ;  lo 

We  must  not  frown  so  soon,  else't  had  been  now. 

15/  Noble.    My  gracious  lord,  please  you  prepare  for 
pleasure. 
The  masque  is  not  far  off. 

Lus.  We  are  for  pleasure. 

Beshrew  thee,  what  art  thou  ?  thou  mad'st  me  start ! 
Thou  hast  committed  treason.     A  blazing  star  ! 

15/  Noble.   A  blazing  star  !     O,  where,  my  lord  ? 

Lus.  Spy  out. 

2nd  Noble.   See,  see,  my  lords,  a  wondrous  dreadful 
one  ! 

Lus.   I  am  not  pleased  at  that  ill-knotted  fire, 
That  bushing,  staring  star.     Am  I  not  duke  ? 


SCENE  III]      THE    REVENGER'S   TRACiEDY  425 

It  should  not  quake  me  now.     Had  it  appeared  20 

Before,  it  I  might  then  have  justly  feared ; 
But  yet  they  say,  whom  art  and  learning  weds," 
When   stars    wear   locks,"    they    threaten    great    men's 

heads : 
Is  it  so  ?  you  are  read,  my  lords. 

1,9/  Noble.  May  it  please  your  grace, 

It  shows  great  anger. 

Lus.  That  does  not  please  our  grace. 

2nd  Noble.   Yet  here's  the  comfort,  my  lord:    many 
times, 
When  it  seems  most  near,  it  threatens  farthest  off. 

Lus.    Faith,  and  I  think  so  too. 

1st  Noble.  Beside,  my  lord. 

You're  gracefully  established  with  the  loves 
Of  all  your  subjects ;  and  for  natural  death,  30 

I  hope  it  will  be  threescore  years  a-coming. 

Lus.   True  ?  no  more  but  threescore  years  ? 

1st  Noble.    Fourscore,  I  hope,  my  lord. 

2nd  Noble.  And  fivescore,  I. 

yd  Noble.   But  'tis  my  hope,  my  lord,  you  shall  ne'er 
die. 

Lus.    Give  me  thy  hand ;  these  others  I  rebuke : 
He  that  hopes  so  is  fittest  for  a  duke  : 
Thou  shalt  sit  next  me ;  take  your  places,  lords ; 
We're  ready  now  for  sports ;  let  'em  set  on  : 
You  thing  !  "  we  shall  forget  you  quite  anon  ! 

yd  Noble.   I  hear  'em  coming,  my  lord.  40 

Enter  the  Masque  of  revengers:   Vendice  and  Hippolito, 
with  two  Lords 

Lus.   [Aside.]  Ah,  'tis  well ! 
Brothers  and  bastard,  you  dance  next  in  hell ! 
[They  dance;  at  the  end  they  steal  out  their  swords,  and  kill 

the  four  seated  at  the  table.     Thunder. 

Ven.   Mark,  thunder  ! 


426  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  v 

Dost  know  thy  cue,  thou  big- voiced  crier  ? 
Dukes'  groans  are  thunder's  watchwords. 

Hip.   So,  my  lords,  you  have  enough. 

Ven.    Come,  let's  away,  no  lingering. 

Hip.   Follow  !  go  !  [Exeunt  except  Vendice. 

Ven.   No  power  is  angry  when  the  lustful  die ; 
When  thunder  claps,  Heaven  likes  the  tragedy.        [Exit. 

Lus.   O,  0  !  51 

Enter  the  Masque  of  intended  murderers:  Ambitioso, 
SuPERVACUO,  Spurio,  and  a  Lord,  coming  in  dancing. 
LussuRioso  recovers  a  little  in  voice,  groans,  and  calls, 
"A  guard  !  treason  !"  at  which  the  Dancers  start  out  of 
their  measure,  and,  turning  towards  the  table,  find  them 
all  to  be  murdered 

Spu.   Whose  groan  was  that  ? 
Lus.  Treason  !   a  guard  ! 

Amb.   How  now  ?  all  murdered  ! 
Sup.    Murdered  ! 
yd  Lord.   And  those  his  nobles  ? 
Amb.  Here's  a  labour  saved ; 

I  thought  to  have  sped  him.     'Sblood,  how  came  this  ? 
Spu.   Then  I  proclaim  myself ;  now  I  am  duke. 
Amb.   Thou  duke  !  brother,  thou  liest. 
Spu.   Slave  !  so  dost  thou.  [Kills  Ambitioso. 

yd  Lord.    Base  villain  !    hast  thou  slain  my  lord  and 
master  ?  [Stabs  Spurio.  60 

Re-enter  Vendice  and  Hippolito  and  the  two  Lords 

Ven.   Pistols  !    treason  !    murder  !    Help  !    guard  my 
lord  the  duke ! 

Enter  Antonio  and  Guard 

Hip.   Lay  hold  upon  this  traitor. 
Lus.   O! 


SCENE  III]       THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  427 

Ven.   Alas  !  the  duke  is  murdered. 

Hip.  And  the  nobles. 

Ven.    [Aside.]   Surgeons  !   surgeons  !     Heart !   does  he 
breathe  so  long  ? 

A  nt.   A  piteous  tragedy  !  able  to  make 
An  old  man's  eyes  bloodshot. 

Lus.   O! 

Ven.   [Aside.]   Look  to  my  lord  the  duke.     A  vengeance 
throttle  him ! 
Confess,  thou  murderous  and  unhallowed  man,  70 

Didst  thou  kill  all  these  ? 

yd  Lord.  None  but  the  bastard,  I. 

Ven.   How  came  the  duke  slain,  then  ? 

T,rd  Lord.    We  found  him  so. 

Lus.   O  villain  ! 

Ven.    Hark  ! 

Lus.   Those  in  the  masque  did  murder  us. 

Ven.   La  you  now,  sir  — 
0  marble  impudence  !  will  you  confess  now  ? 

yd  Lord.   'Sblood,  'tis  all  false. 

Ant.  Away  with  that  foul  monster, 

Dipped  in  a  prince's  blood. 

yd  Lord.  Heart !   'tis  a  lie.  Sj 

Ant.   Let  him  have  bitter  execution. 

Ven.   New  marrow  !  no,  I  cannot  be  expressed. ° 
How  fares  my  lord  the  duke  ? 

Lus.  Farewell  to  all ; 

He  that  climbs  highest  has  the  greatest  fall. 
My  tongue  is  out  of  office. 

Ven.   Air,  gentlemen,  sir. 
Now  thou'lt  not  prate  on't,  'twas  Vendice  murdered  thee. 

[Whispers  in  his  ear. 

Lus.   O! 

Ven.   Murdered  thy  father,  [Whispers. 

Lus.   O!  [Dies. 

Ven.   And  I  am  he  —  tell  nobody :   [Whispers]   So,  so, 
the  duke's  dei)arted.  92 


428  THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  [act  v 

Ant.   It  was  a  deadly  hand  that  wounded  him. 
The  rest,  ambitious  who  shoulci  rule  and  sway 
After  his  death,  were  so  made  all  away. 

Ven.   My  lord  was  unlikely  — 

Hip.   Now  the  hope 
Of  Italy  lies  in  your  reverend  years. 

Ven.   Your  hair  v;ill  make  the  silver  age  again, 
When  there  were  fewer,  but  more  honest  men.  loo 

Ant.   The  burthen's  weighty,  and  will  press  age  down ; 
May  I  so  rule,  that  Heaven  may  keep  the  crown  ! 

Ven.   The  rape  of  your  good  lady  has  been  quitted 
With  death  on  death. 

Ant.  Just  is  the  law  above. 

But  of  all  things  it  put  me  most  to  wonder 
How  the  old  duke  came  murdered  ! 

Ven.  O  my  lord  ! 

Ant.   It  was  the  strangeliest  carried :   I've  not  heard 
of  the  Hke. 

Hip.    'Twas  all  done  for  the  best,  my  lord. 

Ven.   All  for  your  grace's  good.     We  may  be  bold  to 
speak  it  now, 
'Twas  somewhat  witty  carried,  though  we  say  it  —       no 
'Twas  we  two  murdered  him. 

Ant.   You  two  ? 

Ven.   None  else,  i'  faith,  my  lord.     Nay,  'twas  well 
managed. 

Ant.   Lay  hands  upon  those  \dllains  ! 

Ven.  How  !  on  us  ? 

Ant.   Bear  'em  to  speedy  execution. 

Ven.   Heart !  was't  not  for  your  good,  my  lord  ? 

Ant.   My  good  !     Away  with  'em  :  such  an  old  man  as 
he! 
You,  that  would  murder  him,  would  murder  me. 

Ven.   Is't  come  about  ? 

Hip.  'Sfoot,  brother,  you  begun. 

Ven.   May  not  we  set  as  well  as  the  duke's  son  ?         120 
Thou  hast  no  conscience,  are  we  not  revenged  ? 


scKXE  III]      THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  429 

Is  there  one  enemy  left  alive  amongst  those  ? 
'Tis  time  to  die,  when  we're  ourselves  our  foes : 
When  murderers  shut  deeds  close,  this  curse  does  seal  'em  : 
If  none  disclose  'em,  they  themselves  reveal  'em  ! 
This  murder  might  have  slept  in  tongueless  brass  '^ 
But  for  ourselves,  and  the  world  died  an  ass. 
Now  I  remember  too,  here  was  Piato 
Brought  forth  a  kna\ash  sentence  once ; 
No  doubt  (said  he),  but  time  130 

Will  make  the  murderer  bring  forth  himself. 
'Tis  well  he  died  ;  he  was  a  witch. 
And  now,  my  lord,  since  we  are  in  for  ever. 
This  work  was  ours,  which  else  might  have  been  slipped ! 
And  if  we  list,  we  could  have  nobles  clipped," 
And  go  for  less  than  beggars ;  but  we  hate 
To  bleed  so  cowardly :  we  have  enough, 
I'  faith,  we're  well,  our  mother  turned,  our  sister  true. 
We  die  after  a  nest  of  dukes.     Adieu  !  [Exeunt. 

Ant.   How  subtlely  was  that  murder  closed  !  140 

Bear  up 

Those  tragic  bodies :   'tis  a  heavy  season ; 
Pray  Heaven  their  blood  may  wash  away  all  treason  I 

[Exit. 


NOTES 

Figures  in  black  type  refer  to  pages  ;  those  in  light  face  to  lines. 

THE  WHITE   DEVIL 

28.  Nee  rhoncos,  etc.  Thou  wilt  fear  neither  the  jibes  of  the 
malicious  nor  furnish  wrapping  paper  for  fish.  Martial,  iv.  87. 
That  is,  your  writings  will  not  be  cast  away  for  waste  paper.  — 
Haec  porcis,  etc.  These  things  you  will  leave  to-day  for  the  pigs 
to  eat. 

31.  Scene  I.  The  scene  is  a  street  in  Rome.  —  16.  muminia. 
Mummy,  a  substance  like  pitch  sold  by  the  apothecaries  as  a  rem- 
edy for  various  diseases.  See  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Urn  Burial, 
"  Mummy  is  become  merchandise,  Mizraim  cures  wounds,  and 
Pharoah  is  sold  for  balsams." 

32:21.  called  you  master  .  .  .  caviare.  That  once  called  you 
master,  was  once  your  property,  only  for  a  gift  of  caviare.  Caviare 
was  considered  a  great  delicacy.  —  23.  Wherein  the  phoenix  .  .  . 
your  throats.  Doubtless  in  allusion  to  the  rare  viands.  The 
ancients  roasted  peacocks  and  other  rare  fowls;  a  phcenix  would 
have  been  still  rarer.  —  25.  An  idle  meteor  .  .  .  the  earth. 
Meteors  were  thought  by  some  to  be  exhaled  from  the  earth. 

33:  51.  Italian  cut-works.  Open  work  made  by  stamping  or 
cutting  out.  —  Scene  II.     The  scene  is  a  room  in  Camillo's  house. 

34:  29.  brfl,ins  perished  with  quicksilver  .  .  .  liver.  Quick- 
silver was  supposed  to  be  a  much  more  powerful  poison  than  it 
really  is,  even  affecting  those  who  worked  with  it.  The  liver  was 
considered  the  seat  of  the  affections.  —  30.  The  great  barriers 
moulted  not  more  feathers.  More  feathers  were  not  dislodged 
from  the  helmets  of  the  knights  in  the  great  tilting-match.  —  32.  An 
Irish  gamester  .  .  .  naked.  Gamble  for  the  clothes  on  his 
back.  Barnaby  Rich  records  a  brotherhood  of  gamblers  in  Ire- 
land "  who  would  wager  the  clothing  upon  their  backs  rather  than 
cease  gaming."     (Sampson). 

35:  52.  an  ass  in's  foot-cloth.  The  foot-cloth  was  the  rich 
covering  used  on  the  horses  of  the  nobility.     Camillo  is  merely  an 

431 


432  •  THE   WHITE   DEVIL 

ass  in  rich  clothing.  —  59.  a  flaw.  A  sudden  violent  gale,  hence  a 
quarrel.  —  66.  That  nobleman  bowl  booty  ?  At  present  Brachiano 
is  letting  Camilio  have  his  own  way  with  Vittoria,  only  to  gain  a 
foothold  and  bring  his  desires  to  later  fruition.  To  play  "  booty  " 
is  to  allow  one's  opponent  to  win  in  order  to  keep  him  in  the  game. 

—  66-68.  his  cheek  .  .  .  my  mistress.  Bias  means  inclination; 
to  jump  is  to  agree  with,  come  in  contact  with.  The  bias  of  a 
ball  was  its  weight  out  of  centre  so  that  it  might  roll  in  a  curve. 
There  may  possibly  be  a  play  too  on  cheek  and  chiqiie,  a  small  ball 
or  marble. 

36:  77.  Stuffed  with  horn-shavings.  Because  he  is  a  cuckold 
and  has  horns.  —  77.  God  refuse  me.  God  refuse  me  entrance 
into  heaven.  —  82.  In  leam.  In  leash.  This  is  a  correction  by 
Steevens  of  the  original  leon  which  was  meaningless.  —  QS^QS-  take 
the  height  .  .  .  afore  they  are  up.  To  take  the  height  is  to 
erect  a  horoscope,  thus  making  an  astrological  prediction  before  the 
event.  —  95-97-  These  politic  inclosures  .  .  .  last  jubilee. 
"  Provocative  electuaries  "  are  medicines  supposed  to  arouse  the 
passions.  The  passage  may  be  paraphrased :  The  shutting  up  of 
wives  who  are  suspected  to  be  false  causes  "  more  rebellion  in  the 
flesh  "  than  all  the  love  potions  the  doctors  have  sold  since  last 
Jubilee.     The  jubilee  was  the  year  1600. 

37:  119.  bill.  The  European  blackbird  or  chough  has  a  yellow 
bill.  —  125  U.  Passages  within  parentheses  are  asides  to 
Vittoria. 

38:  139.  glass-house.  This  house  stood  near  the  theatre  in 
Blackfriars.  The  site  is  still  marked  by  Glass  House  Yard.  — 
143.   you  are  a  goodly  foil.     The  foil  was  the  setting  for  a  jewel. 

—  153.  philosopher's  stone.  The  elixir,  the  property  of  which 
was  to  change  base  metals  into  gold. 

39:  171.  quae  negata,  grata.  Those  things  denied  are  pleas- 
ing. —  176.  at  the  end  of  the  progress.  A  long  time  hence.  A 
progress  was  the  journey  of  state  of  a  sovereign  through  the  king- 
dom; its  occurrence  was  alike  infrequent  and  uncertain.  —  184.  I 
shall  have  you  steal.  That  is,  you  will  be  stealing.  —  200.  curst 
dogs.  Dogs  that  are  cross  and  treacherous,  and  for  that  reason 
are  kept  tied  during  the  day. 

40:  203.  Give  credit.  Believe  me,  addressed  to  Vittoria;  Bra- 
chiano has  eyes  for  none  other. 

41:  237.  Chequered  with  cross  sticks.  "  Perhaps  crosses 
stuck  in  the  grave."     (Sampson). 


THE   WHITE   DEVIL  433 

43:  312.  That  I  may  bear  .  .  .  stirrup.  That  is,  rise  above 
my  present  low  condition. 

44:322.  conspiring  with  a  beard  .  .  .  graduate.  By  means  of 
a  beard  he  was  able  to  impress  himself  upon  the  university  authori- 
ties. 

45.  Scene  I.  The  scene  is  a  room  in  Francisco's  palace.  — 
12.  my  wrongs.  Sins  committed  against  me.  —  14-16.  to  try 
.  .  .  spider.  The  horn  of  the  unicorn  was  considered  an  in- 
fallible antidote  against  poison.  In  order  to  test  this  power  a  circle 
was  made  of  the  powder  made  from  the  horn  of  the  unicorn  and 
a  spider  placed  within  it.  The  spider,  so  great  was  the  power  of 
this  powder,  would  remain  imprisoned.  See  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
Vulgar  Errors,  III.  23.  —  18.  an  infected  straying.  Wandering 
away  after  sinful  pleasures. 

46:46.  fetch  a  course  about.  Circle  about  without  striking  the 
game. 

47:  55.    cloth  of  tissue.      Cloth  interwoven  with  gold  or  silver. 

—  61.  Switzers.  The  Swiss  were  long  famous  as  hired  soldiers 
and  were  kept  near  the  person  of  sovereigns  for  their  fidelity.  — 
68.  Thy  ghostly  father.  Thy  spiritual  father,  the  priest  who 
shrives  you. 

48:  76.  change  perfumes  for  plasters.  That  is,  contract  dis- 
ease.—  78.  Your  new-ploughed  forehead-defiance!  Your  de- 
fiance that  wrinkles  up  the  forehead  like  a  new-ploughed  field. 
Brachiano  implies  that  the  defiance  of  Francisco  is  merely  forehead 
defiance.  —  92.  A  mere  tale  of  a  tub.  An  idle  story,  as  we  should 
say,  a  fairy-tale.  —  93.  But  to  express  .  .  .  natural  reason.  To 
express  the  thought  in  ordinary  fashion.  —  94.  When  stags  grow 
melancholic.  In  allusion  to  the  popular  notion  that  the  stag 
sheds  tears  on  the  a[)proach  of  death. 

49:  no.  Homer's  frogs.  In  allusion  to  The  Baltic  0/  the  Frogs 
and  Mice,  attributed  to  Homer.  —  123.  up,  and  follow.  That  is, 
rush  into  battle. 

50:132.  That  fall  that  year.  In  the  fall  of  that  year. — 
134.    press.     Impress.     Giovanni  of    course    plays   on    the  word. 

—  145.  You  have  charmed  me.  You  have  wrought  me  to  your 
way  of  thinking.  —  147.    So.     Indeed,  very  well. 

51:  160.  what  that  Italian  means.  That  is,  what  the  word 
for  jealousy  means  in  Italian.  The  Italians  are  notable  for  jealousy. 
— 162.  As  I  to  you  a  virgin.  As  when  I  came  to  you  a 
virgin. 


434  THE   WHITE   DEVIL 

52:  183.  Like  a  shaved  Polack.  Polander.  Moryson,  the 
traveller,  reports  that  it  was  a  custom  among  the  Poles  at  this  time 
to  shave  the  greater  part  of  the  head. 

54:261.  manet  alta  mente  repostum.  It  remains  stored  away 
in  the  depths  of  the  mind.  jEneid,  I.  26.  —  270.  bring  down  her 
stomach.     Quiet  her  temper. 

55:  286.  but  I'll  send  him  to  Candy.  In  allusion,  possibly,  to 
death  by  a  poisoned  sweetmeat,  or  to  Candy  or  Candia,  as  being  a 
distant  place,  just  as  we  might  say  "  I'll  send  him  to  Ballyhack."  — 
286.  Here's  another  property,  too.  Another  tool  which  must 
be  turned  to  special  purpose.  —  291.  he  confessed  a  judge- 
ment .  .  .  non  plus.  He  avoided  the  penalty  by  owning  up  to 
the  offence  and  pleading  for  mercy. 

57:353.  blast  your  cornucopia.  Make  less  your  abundance  of 
horns.  Compare  above,  1.  323,  the  translation  in  the  text  of 
Inopem  me  copia  fecit. 

60.  Scene  I.  The  scene  is  Camillo's  house.  —  14.  keep  a  curtal. 
A  docked  horse,  here  in  allusion  to  Banks's  famous  trained  horse, 
believed  by  the  superstitious  to  perform  his  tricks  by  supernatural 
agencies,  and  finally  burnt  at  Rome. 

62.  compliment  who  shall  begin.  Exchange  courtesy  about 
beginning.  —  44.  plotted  forth  the  room.  Arrested  and  taken 
away  as  the  result  of  a  plot.  —  46.  The  engine  of  all.  The  device 
by  which  all  was  accomplished.  —  52.  this  shall  stand.  This 
service  shall  remain  as  firm  as  the  seal,  etc. 

63.  Scene  II.  The  scene  is  Monticelso's  palace.  —  6.  Their 
approbation.  Their  refers  to  the  lieger  ambassadors.  — 
II.  What,  are  you  in  by  the  week?  To  the  lawyer,  Flamineo 
appears  to  be  under  arrest.  —  13.  sit  upon  thy  sister.  Act  as 
judges  or  possibly  as  jurors  . —  25.  catch  conies.  Catch  rabbits. 
To  "  catch  conies  "  was,  in  Elizabethan  language,  to  play  the  pro- 
fessional sharper. 

64:  52.  the  builder  oak.  Possibly  the  gallows,  as  Sampson 
suggests. 

65 :  60.  politic  respect.  Regard  for  politic  action.  —  80.  broiled 
in  a  candle.     Webster  probably  wrote  "  caudle." 

66: 91.  Domine  judex,  converte  oculos  in  hanc  pestem, 
mulierum  corruptissimam.  Reverend  judge,  look  upon  this  pest, 
this  most  corrupt  of  women.  —  104.  give  aim.  To  cry  aim,  or 
give  aim  was  to  encourage  the  archer.  —  108.  connive  .  .  .  di- 
versivolent,  etc.     These  unusual  and  difficult  words  are  a  take- 


THE   WHITE    DEVIL  435 

off  on  the  verbiage  of  lawyers;  we  should  be  content  to  understand 
tliem  as  well  as  Vittoria. 

67:  119.  to  Latin.  In  comparison  with  Latin.  —  126.  fustian. 
It  was  both  a  coarse  cloth  and  a  term  for  the  language  of  rant  and 
bombast.  —  139.  A  woman  .  .  .  effected.  A  woman  of  most 
prodigious  spirit  is  revealed  in  her. 

68:  144-147.  Yet  like  .  .  .  ashes.  One  of  the  marvels  which 
is  found  in  the  travels  of  Sir  John  Maundeville.  "  Faire  apples, 
and  faire  of  colour  to  beholde;  but  whoso  brekethe  hem,  or  cuttethe 
hem  in  two,  he  schalle  fynde  within  hem  coles  and  cyndres."  — 
151.   scarlet.     The  colour  of  the  cardinal's  robe. 

69:  186.  sample  them  all.  AiTord  a  sample  of  them  all. — 
190.  husband.  With  a  play  on  the  meaning,  steward,  manager, 
one  who  therefore  renders  accounts.  —  195.  I'  th'  rushes.  The 
floors  in  Elizabethan  houses  were  strewn  with  rushes. 

70:  igS.  Woundup.  Shrouded  in  a  winding  sheet.  —  207.  this 
Christian  court.  Vittoria  plays  on  the  word.  The  ecclesiastical 
courts,  where  cases  of  adultery  were  tried  were  so  called.  —  214.  my 
defence  .  .  .  like  Portia's.  The  original  reads  Perseus,  —  clearly 
a  misprint.  Mitford  emended  "  Portia's,"  which  Dyce  explained  as 
an  allusion  to  the  trial  scene  of  The  Merchant  of  Vetiice.  Sampson 
calls  this  naive,  and  refers  the  allusion  to  Cato's  daughter,  who  died 
in  the  "  masculine  "  manner,  if  it  be  such,  of  eating  live  coals. 
But  why  should  it  be  "  naive  "  to  assume  that  a  contemporary 
should  allude  to  the  most  striking  scene  of  a  popular  play,  a  trial 
scene,  too,  in  which  a  woman  argues  in  masculine  attire,  especially 
when  Webster  shows  everywhere  an  acquaintance  with  Shakespeare  ? 

71:  251.  Your  letters  .  .  .  lies.  The  "  letters"  of  the  clergy 
are  the  pledges  which  a  priest  makes  when  he  enters  the  church. 

72:257.  a  demy  foot-cloth.  A  half  foot-cloth.  A  "foot- 
cloth  "  was  a  covering  for  a  horse  used  in  state  processions  and  in 
tournaments.  —  269.  The  act  of  blood  let  pass.  Let  the  question 
of  the  murder  pass.  —  2S0.  Casta  est  quam  nemo  rogavit.  She 
is  a  chaste  woman,  to  whom  no  man  has  made  advances. 

73 :  309.  as  loving  As  to  my  thoughts.  So  curious  or  solicitous 
as  to  reach  unto  my  thoughts. 

74:327.  Rialto  talk.  The  talk  of  the  town.  ^  343.  a  house 
of  convertites.     A  house  of  correction. 

76:  375.  We'll  shake  hands  .  .  .  grave  together.  The  grave 
of  Brachiano's  wife,  sister  of  Francisco.  —  399.  Wilt  please  .  .  . 
a  little?     Addressed  to  the  ambassadors. 


436  THE   WHITE    DEVIL 

78:  447.  victual  under  the  line.  Like  food  in  the  tropics, 
under  the  equator.  —  449.  here  they  sell  justice  .  .  .  death 
with.  They  take  bribes  while  they  are  torturing  men  in  the  name 
of  justice.     Weights  were  used  in  torture. 

79:459.  The  first  blood  shed  .  .  .  religion.  See  Genesis  iv.  4. 
"  And  the  Lord  had  respect  unto  Abel  and  his  offering:  but  unto 
Cain  he  had  not  respect.  And  Cain  was  very  wroth,  and  his 
countenance  fell."  —  460.  Would  I  were  a  Jew !  In  which  case 
he  would  have  no  obligations  to  a  religion  that  permits  such  in- 
justice.—  471.  practise  the  art  of  Wolner  in  England.  Wolner 
was  a  notorious  glutton  of  the  day,  finally  overmastered  in  his 
attempts  to  eat  strange  things  by  a  live  eel. 

80:  502.  melancholic  hare.  Tradition  attributed  melancholy 
to  the  hare.  —  504.  couple  grieve.  In  allusion  to  the  laughter  of 
imaginary  passers-by.  Flamineo  is  feigning  madness.  —  510.  saucer 
Of  a  witch's  congealed  blood.  It  is  doubtful  if  this  is  referable 
to  any  actual  incantation  or  rather  an  invention  of  Flamineo's  fertile 
imagination. 

81:  538.    you  do  break.     That  is,  break  your  promise. 

82:548.  Ud'sdeath!  A  form  of  God's  death. —  Scene  III. 
The  scene  continues  Monticelso's  palace.  2.  And  let  them 
dangle  .  .  .  bride's  hair.  It  was  customary  for  brides  to  walk 
to  church  with  hair  hanging  loose. 

84 :  49.  By  taking  up  commodities.  That  is,  taking  goods  at 
a  reduced  price  or  furnishing  goods  to  borrowers  which  they  might 
sell  at  a  reduction.  Usury  was  prohibited  by  law  in  Elizabethan 
times. 

85:  74.  by  this.  The  list  of  Monticelso.  —  89.  Nay,  laundress, 
three  armies.  Nay,  did  I  want  laundresses,  the  list  would  furnish 
me  a  suflicient  number  for  three  armies.  Laundresses  were  no- 
torious panders.  —  93.    Divinity.     Theological  argument. 

86:136.  Flectere  si  nequeo  superos,  Acheron ta  movebo.  If 
I  cannot  change  the  gods  ajjove,  I  will  move  the  infernal  regions. 

87.    Scene  I.     The  scene  is  the  House  of  Convertites. 

88:  20.   coffined  in  a  baked  meat.     Cooked  in  a  pie. 

89 :  48.  O'er  head  and  ears  in  water.  A  jjlay  on  changeable 
slulf  or  watered  silk.  —  55.  I  am  not  in  Russia.  This  is  a  refer- 
ence to  the  cruel  treatment  given  those  who  in  Russia  were  com- 
mitted for  small  offences.  —  61.  a  Spanish  fig,  or  an  Italian 
sallet.  Poisoning  by  the  means  suggested  here  was  very  common 
in  Si)ain  and  Italy.     Sallet  =  salad.  —  63.  ply  your  convoy.     Ply 


THE   WHITE   DEVIL  437 

your  trade.  —  Scene  II.  The  scene  continues  in  the  House  of 
Convertitcs. 

90:  10.  politic  ignorance!  Ignorance  whicii  is  feigned. — 
II.  You  are  reclaimed,  are  you?  .  .  .  bells.  You  have  come 
back  from  your  wild  Hight,  have  you  ?  When  a  hawk  was  being 
trained  a  thread  was  tied  into  the  leather  band  about  its  leg,  by 
means  of  which  it  could  be  drawn  back  or  "  reclaimed."  Each 
leg  of  the  hawk  was  fitted  with  a  bell.  —  17.  beheld  the  devil  in 
crystal !  Astrologers  were  accustomed  to  look  into  crystals,  claim- 
ing to  be  able  to  make  divinations  from  the  spirits  which  they  saw 
in  them.     Vittoria  is,  of  course,  the  devil  so  seen. 

91:40.  sick  o'  th'  palsy  .  .  .  foxes  'bout  them.  Thr.t  the 
strong  odor  of  the  fox  had  curative  powers  was  a  common  belief. 

95.  Scene  III.  The  scene  is  without  the  Vatican.  The  actual 
choice  of  this  Pope,  who  was  called  Si.xtus  V,  took  place  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel. 

96:  38.  scrutiny  .  .  .  admiration.  "  Two  of  the  methods  of 
electing  a  Pope,"  says  Sampson,  "  are  here  referred  to.  Scrutiny 
is  balloting.  .  .  .  Admiration  [doubtless  a  misprint  for  '  adora- 
tion '],  is  an  act  of  reverence  on  the  part  of  the  cardinals,  who 
approach  one  of  their  number,  kneel  to  him  and  acclaim  him 
Pope."  A  vote  of  two-thirds  of  the  members  by  either  method 
formerly  constituted  an  election. 

97:43-45.  Denuntio  vobis  .  .  .  Paulum  Quartum.  I  an- 
nounce to  you  the  joyous  news,  the  most  reverend  Cardinal,  Lorenzo 
de  Monticelso,  is  elected  to  the  apostolic  see,  and  takes  for  himself 
the  name,  Paul  the  Fourth.  —  60.  Concedimus  .  .  .  peccatorum. 
We  grant  unto  you  the  apostolic  benediction  and  remission  of  your 
sins. 

99:  94.  the  career,  The  sault,  and  the  ring  galliard.  Tricks 
of  horsemanship.     The  career  is  simply  running,  the  sault,  leaping. 

101.    Scene  I.     The  scene  is  in  Brachiano's  Palace,  Padua. 

102:  53.  and  must  crave  .  .  .  revels.  That  is,  must  beg  you 
to  be  a  guest  at  our  Tluchess'  revels. 

103 :  69.     pair  of  beads.     String  of  beads. 

104:94.  That  is  my  countryman.  This  is  spoken  in  reference 
to  Francisco,  disguised  as  a  Moor. 

106:  183.  from  protesting  to  drinking.  From  making  solemn 
vows  to  drinking. 

107:  iQi.  clapped  by  th'  heels.  Put  in  the  stocks.  It  was 
against  the  law  to  strike  anyone  in  the  precincts  of  the  court. 


438  THE   WHITE   DEVIL 

109.  Scene  IT.  The  scene  continues  in  Brachiano's  palace.  — 
lo.  Was  not  this  crucifix  my  father's  ?  Spoken  in  reference 
to  the  crucifix  about  Cornelia's  neck. 

Ill :  69.  grazed.  Lost  in  the  grass ;  the  allusion  is  to  the 
familiar  trick  of  shooting  a  second  arrow  at  random  in  hope  of 
finding  one  already  lost. 

114 :  54.  within  compass  o'  th'  verge.  Within  the  limits 
of  the  horizon.  —  56.  like  a  wolf  in  a  woman's  breast.  The 
wolf  is  probably  the  lupus,  or  cancer,  that  often  attacks  the 
breast. 

116: 116.  a  gown  whipped  with  velvet.  Trimmed  with  strips 
of  velvet.  — 124.  th'  argument  .  .  .  stagger  in  't.  It  is  a 
serious  matter  when  churchmen  become  drunkards. 

117:137-147.  Domine  ...  in  laevum.  Since  Gasparo  and 
Lodovico  are  pretending  to  be  priests,  they  speak  Latin  in  per- 
forming the  last  rites  over  Brachiano.  The  passage  will  be  found 
translated  in  Sampson's  edition  of  Webster. 

119:178.  Though  she  had  practised  .  .  .  pest-house.  In 
reference  to  the  report  that  nurses  sometimes  strangled  plague 
patients  in  order  to  save  themselves  the  trouble  of  taking  care  of 
them.  — 185.  they  sell  water  so  good  cheap.  That  is,  women 
sell  water  at  such  a  good  bargain.  The  allusion  contained  in  "  more 
rivers  to  the  city  "  has  reference  to  the  project  of  Sir  Hugh  Middle- 
ton  to  increase  the  London  water  supply,  a  project  completed  only 
in  1613.  — 194.  tricks  of  a  Machiavelian !  In  Elizabethan 
times  Machiavelli  was  considered  the  type  of  politic  and  unscrupu- 
lous dealing.  —  198.  saffron.  Commonly  employed  as  a  stimu- 
lant. —  200.  To  teach  court  honesty  .  .  .  ice.  The  antecedent 
of  it  seems  almost  certainly  to  be  feat.  The  passage  may  be 
paraphrased:  The  suddenness  with  which  one  may  fall  who  jumps 
on  ice  is  not  to  be  compared  to  the  speed  with  which  one  may  lose 
his  reputation  at  court.  —  200.  jiunps  on  ice.  Undertake  some- 
thing dangerous. 

120:  216.   yen's  the  infernal.     In  reference  to  Zanche. 

122: 261,  that  sunburnt  proverb.  See  Jeremiah  xiii.  23. 
"  Can  the  Ethiopian  change  his  skin  ?  "  —  269.  Purge  the  dis- 
ease with  laurel.  That  is,  we  do  away  with  all  serious  con- 
siderations of  justice  by  setting  above  justice  the  fame  we  shall 
gain  by  this  act.  Partridges  were  supposed  to  eat  laurel  leaves  to 
cure  themselves  of  disease. 

123:  26.   Anacharsis.     Anacharsis  was  a  Thracian  prince  who 


THE    WHITE   DEVIL 


439 


lived  in  sixth  century  bc  —  28.  cordial  cullis.  A  cullis  was  a 
rich  soup.     Gold  was  somftiincs  used  in  its  concoction, 

124 :  64.  They  are  behind  the  traverse.  The  traverses  were 
curtains  concealing,   at  need,  the  inner  stage 

126:  77-79.  There's  rosemary  ...  for  myself.  The  echo  of 
words  of  the  mad  Ophelia  must  be  apparent  to  the  most  casual 
reader.  —  94.   an  you  will.     If  you  will. 

127.  Scene  V.  Sampson  assigns  this  short  scene  to  a 
street. 

128.  Scene  VI  is  again  the  palace  of  Brachiano.  — 13.  I  give 
that  portion  .  .  .  brother.     See  Genesis  iv.  12. 

129:21.  two  case  of  pistols.  A  case  of  two  pistols. — 
24.  These  stones.  Possibly  a  far-fetched  reference  to  the  bullets 
with  which  the  pistols  were  supposed  to  be  loaded. 

130:64.  Like  mandrakes  .  .  .  shrieking.  The  resemblance 
between  the  mandrake  root  and  the  human  figure  is  constantly 
emphasized  in  Elizabethan  times.  —  65.  grammatical  laments. 
Mere  rhetorical  sorrow. 

131:90.  taster.  The  name  applied  to  one  who  tasted  a  dish 
in  order  to  warrant  the  absence  of  poison. 

132:104.  O  Lucian  .  .  .  purgatory!  These  are  not  the  ex- 
amples of  Lucian,  though  prompted  by  a  passage  in  the  second 
dialogue,  Menippos. —  105.    tagging  points.     Making  lace. 

133:142.  drive  a  stake.  In  allusion  to  the  treatment  of  the 
bodies  of  suicides.  —  146.  And  doubled  all  your  reaches.  That 
is,  fathomed  the  utmost  depth  of  your  trickery.  —  157.  artillery- 
yard.     A  practice  ground  near  Bishopsgate  Street  without. 

134:163.  forty-nine  of  her  sisters  .  .  .  one  night.  Danaus 
had  made  his  fifty  daughters  promise  that  they  would  kill  their 
husbands  on  their  wedding  night  to  avenge  an  ancient  grudge.  All 
obeyed  except  Hypermnestra.  — 167.  A  matachin.  A  dance  in 
which  the  performers  were  clothed  in  short  jackets  and  wore  gilt 
paper  helmets,  also  carrying  sword  and  buckler.  — 168.  Church- 
men. Lodovico  and  Gasparo  are  dressed  as  Capuchins 
dress. 

137:  264.  like  the  lions  i'  th'  Tower  on  Candlemasday.  The 
tradition  seems  to  have  been  that  if  the  sun  shone  on  Candlemas- 
day, the  lions  would  mourn  because  they  knew  that  winter  was  not 
broken  up.  A  similar  tradition  is  held  to-day  in  America  in  regard 
to  the  ground-hog. 


440  THE  DUCHESS  OF  MALFI 


THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI 

143.  Scene  I.  A  presence-chamber  in  the  Duchess'  palace  at 
Amalfi. — 18.  Inform  him  the  corruption.  Tell  the  king  of  the 
corruption. 

144:30.  So.  Do  you  ?  —  36.  two  towels  instead  of  a  shirt. 
A  jocularly  bitter  remark  on  his  rags.  Cf.  /  Henry  IV,  IV.  ii, 
46  :  "  There's  but  a  shirt  and  a  half  in  all  my  company;  and  the 
half  shirt  is  two  napkins  tacked  together  and  thrown  over  the 
shoulders  like  a  herald's  coat  without  sleeves." 

145:63.  geometry  is  his  last  supportation.  Sampson  ex- 
plains, "  geometry  presumably  implies  that  a  man  on  crutches  looks 
Hke  a  pair  of  compasses,"  as  he  walks  measuring  the  ground.  — 
Scene  II.     A  gallery  in  the  palace  at  Amalfi. 

146 :  6.  Who  took  the  ring  of tenest  ?  To  take  the  ring  is  to 
thrust  a  lance  through  a  ring,  dislodging  it,  while  riding  at  a  gallop. 
This  was  a  favourite  sport  of  Prince  Henry,  son  of  King  James.  — 
30.  to  lie  .  .  .  all  in  tents.  To  lie  meant  to  lodge  also;  tents 
were  the  swathings  of  lint  with  which  the  wounded  were  band- 
aged. 

147:  50.  your  fool.  Any  fool.  —  73.  Now,  sir,  your  promise. 
That  is,  his  promise  to  tell  Delio  about  the  characters  of  some  of 
the  court  people. 

148:  75.  five  thousand  crowns  at  tennis.  This  was  not  an 
exaggeration  of  the  high  stakes  sometimes  played  at  this  game. 
The  poet  Suckling  in  the  next  generation  nearly  ruined  himself 
financially  at  this  game.  —  So.  The  spring  in  his  face  .  .  .  en- 
gendering of  toads.  Any  pleasant  looks  which  he  may  have  are 
caused  by  his  gloating  over  some  foul  scheme.  —  84.  political 
monsters.  Political  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  practising  policy, 
low  intrigue  of  any  kind.  —  97.  Dooms  men  to  death  by  infor- 
mation. That  is,  passes  sentence  upon  men  merely  from  what 
he  hears  about  them.  —  102.    shrewd  turns.     Tricks  of  deceit. 

149:  I  TO.  Cast  in  one  figure.  Made  in  the  same  mould.  — 127. 
You  play  .  .  .  her  commendations.  You  praise  her  to  excess 
as  a  wire-drawer  draws  out  the  metal  fine. 

152:  205.  my  corruption  Grew  out  of  horse-dung.  That  is, 
came  by  way  of  magic. 

153:  216.  more   spotted  Than   Laban's   sheep.    See  Genesis 


THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  441 

XXX.  35.  —  220.  that  motion.  That  determination.  Motion  is 
liere  used  for  movement  of  the  mind.  —  231.  Subtler  than 
Vulcan's  engine.  The  net  with  which  Vulcan  caught  Mars  and 
Venus. 

154:  265.    I  winked.     Chose  l)Iindly. 

156:  321.  'tis  very  sovereign.  That  is,  a  sovereign  remedy 
for  disease.     Such   powers  were  often  connected   with   rings. 

157:331.  This  goodly  roof  of  yours.  Possibly  a  reference  to 
Antonio's  liead  as  he  is  kneeling  before  her.  —  347.  darkening 
of  your  worth.  Underestimating  of  your  worth,  in  allusion  to  the 
practice  of  tradesmen  who  darkened  their  shops  to  conceal  the  in- 
feriority  of   their  goods. 

158:  379.  Quietus  est.  This  Latin  phrase  was  used  to  indicate 
the  final  settlement  of  an  account. 

159:  391.  Per  verba  presenti.  In  the  hearing  of  one  who  is 
present. 

160:412.  Like  the  old  tale  in  Alexander  and  Lodowick. 
The  detail  referred  to  was  an  episode  common  in  the  romantic 
tales  of  the  Middle  Ages.  A  very  early  occurrence  of  it  may  be 
found  in  the  story  of  "  Tristram  and  Iseult."  There  was  a  play 
called  Alexander  and  Lodowick  in  the  earlier  drama. 

161.  Scene  L  A  room  in  the  palace  of  the  Duchess.  —  18. 
roaring  boys.  The  swaggering  roughs  and  bullies  of  the  town 
were  so  called  in  the  slang  of  the  day.  —  24.  one  of  the  prime 
night-caps.  Webster  himself  explains  the  word  four  lines  above 
as    "  an    eminent    fellow."     - 

162:  27.  Why  .  .  .  face-physic.  Elizabethan  drama  is  full 
of  diatribes  against  women's  use  of  cosmetics.  Bosola's  brutal 
abuse  of  the  "  Old  Lady  "  may  have  been  suggested,  as  Sampson 
says,  by  Mercutio's  teasing  of  Juliet's  Nurse.  —  40-42.  witchcraft 
.  .  .  ordure.  This  horrible  passage  has  been  referred  for  its 
original  to  Ariosto's  Satires,  1608,  as  translated  by  Tofte.  —  43. 
dead  pigeon.  This  strange  remedy  is  to  be  found  among  like 
receipts  in    The  English  Huswife,   1615. 

163:68.  Your  wife's  gone  .  .  .  Lucca.  This  is  addressed  to 
Castruccio.  Lucca  was  the  seat  of  famous  baths.  —  76.  I  have 
bought  some  apricocks.  See  below,  Scene  II,  11.  1-3  :  "  So,  so, 
there's  no  question  but  her  tcchiness  and  most  vulturous  eating  of 
the  apricocks,  are  apparent  signs  of  breeding." 

164:  loi.  you  are  lord  of  the  ascendant  The  ascendant, 
according   to  astrology,   was  that   particular  part  of  the  heavens 


442  THE    DUCHESS    OF   MALFI 

which  was  arising  at  a  given  time.  A  planet  in  that  part  which  was 
called  the  house  was  lord  of  the  ascendant.  Hence  the  phrase  meant 
to  be  in  high  good  fortune.  —  up.  mend  my  ruff.  Set  my  ruff 
to  rights.  — 121.  lemon  peels.  To  sweeten  the  breath.  The 
original  edition  reads  pits. 

165:  137.    to  year.     This  year. 

167.  Scene  II.  An  outer  room  in  the  palace  at  Amalfi.  —  7.  the 
glass-house.  The  place  where  bottles  are  blown.  See  above 
note,  p.  38,  1.  139. 

170:  87.  set  a  figure  for's  nativity.  Determine  the  star  under 
which  he  was  born,  cast  his  horoscope.  —  Scene  III.  A  court 
of  the  palace.  —  5.  have  part  of  it.  Play  my  part  in  this 
stratagem. 

171:  20-22.  setting  a  figure  .  .  .  radical.  Astrology  was 
popularly  employed  for  the  discovery  of  stolen  articles.  Radical 
is  a  technical  term.  —  :^t,.  a  Spanish  fig  For  the  imputation. 
The  term  Spanish  fig  was  accompanied  by  a  gesture  made  by 
inserting  the  thumb  between  the  fore  and  the  middle  finger.  In 
Elizabethan  days  this  was  a  sign  of  the  greatest  contempt;  figs 
were  a  common  medium  of  poison  in  Spain  and  Italy  at  this  time.  — 
40.   Are  you  scarce  warm?     Scarce  warm  in  your  place. 

172:  42.  My  nose  bleeds.  Commonly  accounted  an  omen  of 
coming  misfortune.  —  45.  letters  .  .  .  wrought.  In  allusion  to 
the  letters  wrought  or  embroidered  on  this  handkerchief.  —  55. 
Some  of  your  help,  false  friend.  Addressed  to  his  lantern.  — 
56.  nativity.  This  nativity  is  properly  calculated  according  to 
the  rules  of  the  art.  "  The  lord  of  the  first  house  (Saturn,  an  evil 
planet)  is  combust  when  within  fifteen  degrees  of  Sol;  Mars  is  also 
an  evil  planet;  a  human  sign  is  one  of  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  which 
has  a  human  form,  as  Virgo,  Aquarius;  the  first  house  signifies 
body,  head,  face,  and  the  eighth  house  signifies  kind  of  death." 
(Searles,   quoted   by  Sampson). 

173.  Scene  IV.  A  room  in  the  Cardinal's  palace  at  Rome.  — 
17.  glass  .  .  .  Galileo.  This  was  a  recent  event  at  the  date  of 
the   j)lay. 

174:28-30.  I  have  taken  ..  .  fly  at  it.  The  Cardinal  is  using 
the  language  of  hawking.  —  39.  like  one  in  physic.  Under  treat- 
ment for  disease. 

175:57.  Your  laughter  Is  my  pity.  I  am  sorry  for  that  which 
causes  you  laughter.  —  65.  Nor  is  it  physical.  Possessed  of 
medicinal  properties.  —  66.  Persuade  us  seeth't  in  cullises.      A 


THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  443 

cullis  was  a  strong  broth,  into  which  gold  entered  at  times  as  an 
ingredient. 

176.  .Scene  V.  The  scene  continues  in  the  Cardinal's  palace.  — ■ 
3.   she's  loose  i'  th'  hilts.     She's  a  strumpet. 

179:  79.   general  eclipse.     Complete  destruction  of  her  anfl  hers. 

180.  Scene  I.  A  room  in  the  palace  at  Amalfi.  —  7.  She  hath 
had  two  children  more.  Considerable  time  must  have  elapsed 
since  Antonio  and  Delio  last  met.  —  14.  the  reversion  of  some 
great  man's  place.  The  promise  of  some  great  man's  place  after 
he  has  left  it  vacant. 

181 :  49.  Pasquil's  paper-bullets.  Lampoons  pasted  on  a 
mutilated  statute  in  Rome  and  commonly  called  pasqiiils  or  pas- 
quinades from  a  satirical  cobbler  named  Pasquin,  who  began  the 
practice. 

182:  57.  Hot  burning  coulters.  One  of  the  trials  of  chastity 
actually  practised  in  the  middle  ages. 

183.  Scene  II.  The  bedchamber  of  the  Duchess,  Amalfi.  — - 
7.  you  are  a  lord  of  misrule.  The  lord  of  misrule  was  the  master 
of  revels  at  Christmas  time  in  the  old  English  celebration,  hence  a 
name  applied  to  anyone  who  upset  the  natural  order  of  things  or 
did  as  he  pleased. 

184:  27.  Anaxarete.  She  suffered  this  fate  because  she  had  re- 
fused the  love  of  Iphis,  who  committed  suicide  therefore.  —  40. 
'twas  a  motion.  Motion  here  appears  to  mean  a  puppet-show, 
a  sight,  as  we  might  say. 

185:  69.  'Tis  welcome.  If  Antonio  has  lost  his  tongue,  he  will 
be  much  less  liable  to  say  something  which  will  cause  his  overthrow. 
The  Duchess,  on  accolmt  of  the  darkness,  is  not  aware  of  the  fact 
that  Antonio  has  gone,  but  supposes  Ferdinand  is  he. 

186:88.  If  I  could  change  Eyes  with  a  basilisk.  The  eyes  of 
the  basilisk  killed  at  a  distance.  —  94.  thy  discovery.  The  dis- 
covery of  thee. 

188:  141.  So  you  have  .  .  .  witches.  That  is,  possessed  of 
youth  and  beauty  when  in  reality  they  are  witches. 

189:  177.  enginous  wheels.  Wheels  that  run  with  the  swift- 
ness of  an  engine. 

190:  190.  let  him.  Equivocally  either  stop  him  or  hinder  him, 
like   the   rest  of  the   passage. 

191:  215.  He  could  not  .  .  .  pig's  head  gaping.  Pork  being 
offensive  to  a  Jew.  —  225.  chippings  of  the  buttery.  Bread 
crumbs  used  to  scour  silver.  —  230.   His  dirty  stirrup  .  .  .  their 


444  THE    DUCHESS   OF    MALFI 

noses.  As  a  sign  of  inferiority.  The  serf  followed  the  lord  who 
rode  on  horseback,  so  that  one  might  say  their  noses  were  rivetted 
to  his  stirrup. 

192:  267.    Bermoothes.     The  Bermudas. 

193:  309.  our  lady  of  Loretto.  A  famous  shrine  of  the  Virgin 
was  situated  here.  It  was  supposed  that  the  house  of  the  Virgin 
had  been  transported  here  from  Nazareth. 

194:  316.  Lucca,  Spa.  Both  notable  watering  resorts.  —  Scene 
III.     The  Cardinal's  palace  at  Rome. 

195:  12.  A  voluntary  lord.  One  serving  of  his  own  free  will.  — 
18.  City  Chronicle.  His  knowledge  of  warfare  is  that  of  an 
officer  of  miHtia.  —  19.  two  pewterers  going.  Two  pewter-smiths 
making  models  of  battles.  —  26.  taking  prisoner.  Being  taken 
prisoner. 

196:  38.  Foxes  ...  in  their  tails.  Thus  Samson  destroyed 
the  Philistines.  See  Judges  xv.  4  —  49.  A  very  salamander  .  .  . ' 
violence  of  fire.  The  salamander  was  supposed  to  be  able  to  live 
in  fire.     The  eyes  of  Ferdinand  flash  at  the  news  he  hears. 

197:  7.  Arms,  and  honours  deck  thy  story.  A  marginal  note 
of  the  quarto  of  1623  reads:  "  The  author  disclaims  this  ditty  to  be 
his." 

199.    Scene  V.     On  the  road  near  Loretto. 

201 :  47.  what  of  this?  The  letter.  —  62.  out  of  frame.  Out 
of  order. 

203:  116.    that  counterfeit  face.    The  mask  which  Bosola  wears. 

205.    Scene  I.     A  room  in  the  Duchess'  palace  at  Amalfi. 

207:  62-64.  Than  were't  my  picture  .  .  .  dunghill.  One  of 
the  familiar  methods  of  practising  against  life  employed  by  those 
dealing  in  witchcraft.  —  70.  Portia.  That  is,  Brutus'  Portia  who 
took  her  life  by  swallowing  live  coals. 

210:  129.  by  my  intelligence.  By  the  intelligence  which  I 
have  given  you.  which  makes  Bosola  an  informer  against  the 
Duchess.  —  Scene  IT.     The  scene  continues  the  same. 

211 :  24.    to  my  cause  of  sorrow.     Woe  is  me. 

212:  55.  an  excellent  knave  in  grain.  A  pun  is  intended  on 
the  expression  "  dyed  in  grain."  —  56.  hindered  transportation. 
Prohibited  from  exporting  his  corn. 

213:  85.  to  Puritans  that  have  sore  throats  with  overstrain- 
ing. Because  tliey  have  sung  so  many  hymns  and  said  so  many 
long  prayers.  —  88-90.  You  do  give  .  .  .  ancient  gentleman. 
A  woodcock  was  the  symbol  of  stupidity.     A  man  who  gave  his 


THE   DUCHESS   OF   MALFI  445 

crest  as  "  a  woodcock's  hea<]  with  the  brain's  picked  out  on'l  " 
would  he  a  very  ancient  gentleman  indeed.  —  92.  we  are  only 
to  be  saved  by  the  Helvetian  translation.  That  is,  tlie  (ieneva 
Bihle,  the  work  of  Coverdaie,  Whittingham,  and  other  Englishmen 
living  in  Calvin's  Protestant  commonwealth  of  (ieneva.  This  was 
tlie  version  of  the  extreme  Puritans. 

217:  219.  strange  geometrical  hinges.  Strange  magical 
hinges. 

219:  254.  Let  this  lie  still.  This  is  spoken  of  the  body  of  the 
Duchess.  —  255.    Shows  the  children.     By  drawing  a  curtain. 

221:322.    Doth  take  much  in  a  blood.     Runs  in  families. 

222:346.  Her  eye  opes.  The  revival  of  the  Duchess 
after  strangling  seems  reminiscent  of  the  case  of  Desdemona. 
The  doctors  are  at  variance  as  to  the  truth  of  such  a  revival  to 
life. 

224.  Scene  I.  Milan,  a  public  place.  —  6.  in  cheat.  In 
escheat.  Lands  which,  on  account  of  the  absence  of  lawful  heirs, 
reverted  to  the  lord  of  a  fee,  were  said  to  be  held  in  cheat.  —  10.  To 
be  invested  .  .  .  revenues.  To  receive  the  income  which  is 
now  paid  you.  —  19.    St.  Bennet.     St.  Benedict. 

227.  Scene  IL  A  gallery  in  the  residence  of  the  Cardinal  at 
Rome.  —  6.  lycanthropia.  Madness  in  which  the  madman  im- 
agines himself  a  wolf. 

228:  48.  To  drive  six  snails  .  .  .  Moscow.  In  his  madness 
Ferdinand  thinks  of  a  striking  example  of  patience. 

229:62.  The  white  of  a  cockatrix's  egg.  The  doctor  is 
humourin.L;  the  madman  by  answering  him  in  the  terms  of  his  own 
folly.  —  70.  fetch  a  frisk.  Cut  a  caper.  —  77.  Barber-Chirur- 
geon's  hall.  This  was  situated  in  Monkwell  Street.  The  barbers, 
as  is  well  known,  were  the  first  surgeons. 

231:  125.  style  me  Thy  advancement.  Call  on  me  to  ad- 
vance you.  — 139.  Who  bought  her  picture  lately.  The  pic- 
ture of  the  Duchess. 

234:  230.  I  must  be  your  secretary.  The  sharer  of  your 
secrets. 

235:  245.  Will  you  rack  me?  Torture  me  with  questions  as 
one  on  the  rack. 

237:  298.  And  wherefore  .  .  .  rotten  purposes  to  me?  A 
figure  drawn  from  the  custom  of  painting  woodwork  to  imitate 
marble. 

239.    Scene  III.     Milan,  without  the  Cardinal's  residence. 


446  APPIUS   AND    VIRGINIA 

241:  59.  Contempt  of  pain  .  .  .  our  own.  Contempt  of  pain 
is  the  only  thing  in  time  of  misery  that  we  can  call  our  own.  — 
Scene  IV.     A  room  in  the  residence  of  the  Cardinal,  with  a  gallery. 

—  19.   now    I    have    protested    against   it.     Now   that    I    have 
solemnly  promised  not  to  do  it. 

243:  66.  I  am  glad  ...  in  sadness.  Seriously,  I  am  glad 
that  I  shall  do  it,  that  is,  die. 

244:  90.  thou  represent  .  .  .  The  thing  thou  bear'st.  Be  as 
silent  as  the  dead  body  thou  bearest.  —  Scene  V.  The  scene 
remains  the  same. 

247:62.   what  hath  former  been.     "What  hath  formerly  been. 

—  76.   I  will  vault  credit.     Outdo  belief. 

248:  97.  Here  i'  th'  rushes.  The  regular  floor-covering  of  the 
limes. 

249:  123.  Fall  in  a  frost.  Slip  on  the  ice  which  the  frost  has 
made. 

APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA 

255.     Scene  I.     Rome  before  the  Senate-house. 

256:  24.  I  have  seen  .  .  .  them.  This  sentiment  is  re- 
peated from  The  Duchess  of  Malft,  I.  ii,  380-381.  Such  repetitions 
are  a  familiar  trick  of  Webster's.  —  37.  when  yonder.  In  the 
Capitol.  —  49.  I'll  fit  them  for't.  That  is,  give  my  relatives  a 
chance  to  warm  them  in  my  sunshine. 

257:  56.  aspire  eminent  place.  Aspire  to  eminent  place. — • 
74.  Never  were  great  men  .  .  .  shadows.  The  things  which 
invariably  accompany  high  office,  such  as  envy,  criticism,  and  end- 
less responsibility.  — •  75.  this  general  frame.  The  material  uni- 
verse. —  78.  noble  friends.  Appius  speaks  ironically  to  his 
cousins. 

258:  90.    The  gods  conduct  you  hither !    That  is,  to  this  office. 

—  100.    travail.     In  the  double  sense  to  Journey  and  to  labour. 
259.    Scene  II.     A  room  in  the  house  of  Virginius.  —  6.    were 

you  poor.     Even  if  you  were  poor.- — 10.    it.     My  character. — 
II.    Here.     That  is,  in  Virginia. 

260:  13.  ceremonious  chapel.  A  chapel  which  is  a  place  of 
sacred  ceremony.  —  14.  a  thronging  presence.  The  crowded 
presence-chamber  of  a  prince.  — 15-17.  I  am  confirmed,  the 
court  .  .  .  court.  I  am  convinced  that  the  court  makes  some  ladies 
appear  fairer,  etc.,  but  Virginia's  port  (bearing)  being  simple  virtue. 


APPIUS   AND   VIRGINIA  447 

beautifies  the  court.  —  37.  quails.  Quails  were  used  like  cocks 
for  fighting.  —  39.  In  this  form  .  .  .  horseman.  Appearing  as 
an  overspent  horseman. 

261.  Scene  III.  A  room  in  the  house  of  Appius  Claudius. — 
10.  I  am  uncrannied.  There  are  in  me  no  leaks  by  which 
secrets  will  out.  —  15.  thine  ear.  —  Dyce's  reading  for  "  ihine 
ever." 

262:  35.  I'll  prostrate  you.  I'll  pander  to  you,  make  it  possible 
for  you  to  gratify  your  desires. 

263.  Scene  IV.  The  Senate-chamber.  —  9.  yon  great  star- 
chamiber.     The  heavens. 

264:  55.  To  furs  and  metal.  The  outward  show  of  public 
office.  —  58.    an  infinite.     A  vast  number. 

265:  74.  double-dye  .  .  .  in  scarlet.  Scarlet  being  the  colour 
of  ofiBce  as  of  blood.  —  77.  Let  Janus'  .  .  .  devolved.  Let  the 
gates  of  the  temple  of  Janus  be  swung  open.  These  gates  remained 
open  while  an  army  was  in  the  field. 

266:  93.  perdue.  Enemies  l\ing  "  perdue,"  that  is,  hidden,  in 
ambush.  —  104-106.  wounds  .  .  .  searched.  That  is,  probed. 
— 107.  pore  upon  their  bags.  Play  the  miser.  — 114.  The 
earth  shall  find.     The  earth  shall  provide  for. 

267:  129.  to  urge  you  .  .  .  contract.  To  urge  you  to  take 
the  necessary  steps  for  our  union,  in  this  case  merely  public  announce- 
ment. Contract  is  accented,  as  usual  at  the  time,  on  the  second 
syllable.  —  150.  Thou  wilt  .  .  .  forbear.  You  will  pay  usurious 
interest  for  what  you  hold  back. 

268.  Scene  I.  A  street.  —  5.  and  get  an  heir.  The  freedom 
of  Elizabethan  speech,  and  especially  the  liberties  allowed  by  the 
clown  or  household  fool,  are  always  matters  of  wonder  to  the  reader 
unused  to  the  manners  of  old  time.  However  we  may  congratulate 
ourselves  on  our  cleaner  language,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  con- 
found bad  manners  with  corrupt  morals.  —  14.  as  well  asmulier. 
That  is,  a  woman.  The  clown  means  to  imply  that  she  desires  all 
the  things  which  please  a  woman. 

269:  29.  to  fame  his  industry.  Make  famous  his  ability  to 
wait  an  occasion.  —  32.  Express  your  greatest  art.  Play  your 
best.  This  is  spoken  to  the  musicians.  —  41.  You  mediate  .  .  . 
for  courtesies.  You  try  to  excuse  what  is  really  courtesy.  —  47. 
Proud  to  usurp  your  notes.      Usurp  means  simply  to  take  up. 

270:  70.  make  your  beauty  populous.  Bring  it  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  all.  —  75.    a  refined  citizen.     Icilius  is  only  a  plebeian.  — 


448  APPIUS  AND   VIRGINIA 

85.  Shadow.  Conceal  it  from  Appius.  —  Scene  II.  The  camp 
before  Algidum. 

272:  44.  Carouse  our  blood.  Drink  to  the  intoxication  of  our 
blood.  —  53.  Cut  poor  men's  throats  at  home.  In  allusion  to  the 
ruin  wrought  by  extortionate  money-lenders. 

273:  65.  Two  summers.  The  plenty  of  two  summers  or  har- 
vests. 

274:  98.  Is  your  gall  burst?  Does  your  venom  show  itself? 
—  103.  shoot  your  quills.  In  accord  with  a  popular  idea  as  to 
the  porcupine. 

275:  113.  Advance  your  pikes!  As  we  would  say,  present 
arms.  — 136.  Refuse  me!  May  God  refuse  me  entrance  into 
heaven ! 

276:  157-160.  every  captain  .  .  .  obedient.  Every  captain 
bears  in  his  private  government  (over  his  own  company)  that  (i.e. 
the  same)  form  (kind  of  rule)  which  kings  should  bear  (wield)  over 
their  subjects;  and  to  them  (i.e.  captains,  their  troops)  should  be 
equally  obedient. 

278.    Scene  III.     Rome,  an  outer  room  in  the  house  of  Appius. 

281:  92.  Our  secretary.  Appius  begins  an  excuse  in  which 
Marcus,  "  our  secretary,"  is  to  figure. 

283:  134.  Morrow.  A  shortened  form  of  Good-morrow. — 
135.  It  is  no  more  indeed.  That  is,  than  morning.  —  146.  Pan- 
thean  gods.     All  ye  gods  of  the  Pantheon. 

284:  178.  notes  probable.  Written  statements  which  will  serve 
as  proof.  —  190.  t'  have  warrants  by  arrest.  To  get  a  warrant 
for  her  arrest. 

286.  Scene  I.  Rome,  a  room  in  the  house  of  Numitorius.  — 
II.  when.  An  exclamation  of  impatience  equivalent  to  "  Be  about 
it  then."  —  15.    a  light  woman.     A  wanton  woman. 

287:  22.  My  [foster-]  child.  Foster  is  an  emendation  pro- 
posed by  Mr.  Dyce  to  supply  a  defect  in  the  early  editions  of  the 
play,  which  read,  "  My  most  —  child." 

289:  92.  Showed  .  .  .  'gainst  himself.  His  handwriting  in 
the  letters  to  Virginia.  —  112.  let's  then  preserve  ourselves 
That  is,  protect  ourselves  by  avoiding  open  opposition  to  Appius. 

290.  Scene  11.  Rome,  the  Forum. — 9.  'Tis  strange  .  .  . 
debts.  The  lictor  supposes  that  he  is  to  arrest  Virginia  on  the 
charge  of  debt. 

291:  23.  your  French  fly.  A  blistering  fly  used  in  the  treat- 
ment of  certain  diseases.     French  rheum  is  a  euphemism  for  such 


APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA  449 

diseases.  —  27.  lay  him  i'  th'  kennel.  Knock  him  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  where  ran  the  Elizabethan  kennel  or  gutter.  — 
29.  kennel  him  i'  th'  counter.  Shut  him  up  in  the  Compter,  a 
prison  for  debtors  situated  in  .Southwark.  Counter  was  ecjuivalent 
to  any  prison.  —  41.  Here's  the  beauty.  Indicating  the  nurse. — 
53.  Of  all  waters  ...  a  widow's  tears.  Because  there  is  little 
salt  for  powdering  (or  preserving  like  corned  beef)  in  them,  i.e.  they 
arc  feigned. 

292:  63.  and  lastly  the  reversion.  That  part  of  the  property 
of  a  widow  which  must  return  to  the  relatives  of  the  husband.  — 
74.  hard  to  be  spoke  with.  Hard  to  procure.  —  78.  And  fresh 
cod  .  .  .  thick,  and  threefold.  That  is,  sold  in  a  great  hurry. 
The  language  of  the  clown  throughout  conveys  an  innocent  sense  to 
Virginia  and  happily  likewise  to  us;  but  to  the  knowing  of  the  time 
his  words  are  full  of  improprieties  and  worse.  —  79.  go  together 
by  the  ears  for't.  Fight  for  it.  —  81.  mutton's  mutton.  The 
clown  plays  on  the  word  as  elsewhere.  —  84.  the  sinners  i'  th' 
suburbs  .  .  .  away  from't.  There  has  sprung  up  such  a  number 
of  houses  of  ill  fame  in  the  suburbs  that  the  business  has  been  almost 
destroyed  in  the  city.  —  86.  the  term  time  .  .  .  calendar.  The 
time  of  the  meeting  of  the  general  sessions  is  the  greatest  period 
in  the  year  for  the  selling  of  mutton,  that  is,  the  most  flourishing 
period  for  prostitutes. 

293:  g6.  cuckoos.  It  was  customary  to  cry  cuckoo  to  a  man 
whose  wife  was  known  to  be  false  to  him.  —  106.  tall  followers. 
This  refers  to  the  lictors  who  are  with  Marcus.  Tall  means  sol- 
dierly, brave. 

294:  132.  Shall  .  .  .  smooth  cozenage.  Which  is  to  be  un- 
derstood before  shall.  —  134.    Howe'er.     However  that  may  be. 

296:    185.    on  their  parts.     On  their  side. 

297:  208.  And  view  .  .  .  proofs.  As  Marcus  makes  this 
speech  he  hands  a  written  statement  of  his  case  to  Appius. 

299:  280.  referring  .  .  .  particular  censure.  Referring  the 
particular  or  private  wrong  which  I  may  have  suffered  by  the  actions 
of  Marcus  to  a  separate  judgement. 

301:  327.  and  must  not  lie  .  .  .  forthcoming.  Must  not  be 
left  in  charge  of  a  man  who  will  pledge  himself  for  her  appearance 
before  the  judge.  Pro[)riety  demands  that  a  woman  so  act.  —  341. 
keep  you  safe  from  starting.  Put  you  where  you  will  not  run 
away. 

302:    354.    still  hold  dread,     .Always  hold  in  apprehension. — 


450  APPIUS    AND    VIRGINIA 

359.  And  confounding  ignorance.  Icilius  refers  to  the  ignorance 
of  facts  necessary  to  free  Virginia.  —  Scene  III.  A  room  in  tlie 
house  of  Appius. 

303:  22.  In  high  attempts  .  .  .  infinite  eyes.  When  one 
is  attempting  great  things,  the  insight  becomes  all-seeing.  —  Scene 
IV.     A  street. 

304:  12.  Wide  of  the  bow-hand.  Considerably  to  the  left  of 
the  hand  that  holds  the  bow,  the  left  hand.  —  34.  amongst  curs 
a  trendle-tail.  A  trendle  tail,  a  dog  with  a  curling  tail.  The 
point  of  all  these  expressions  is  that  the  clown  regards  himself  as  the 
most  despised  creature  of  a  despised  type  of  animal.  —  46.  on  the 
knight  side,  nor  in  the  twopenny  ward.  The  names  of  two  wards 
in  the  old  Compter  prison  in  Southwark. 

305:  48.  in  the  hole.  This  likewise  has  reference  to  the  worst 
part  of  the  prison.  The  vulgar  equivoque  of  this  detestable  clown 
throughout  is  obvious. 

306.  Scene  I.  Rome,  before  the  tribunal  of  Appius.  —  9.  Is 
still  carousing  Lethe.  Drunk  with  forgetfulness.  —  11.  Rhada- 
mant.     Rhadamanthus,  one  of  the  judges  in  the  lower  world. 

307:  38-40.  We  have  .  .  .  doom.  This  may  be  paraphrased: 
The  sense  of  justice  in  Rome  is  not  suiJQcient  to  prevent,  by  law  or 
by  violence,  the  act  which  Appius  has  premeditated. 

308:  56.  Your  habit  .  .  .  strangely.  You  look  very  strange 
in  your  present  dress  of  slave.  —  70.  They  be  not  .  .  .  against 
me.  That  is,  the  laws  be  not  made  to  work  against  me.  —  76.  I 
stand  you.     I  am  ready  to  withstand  you. 

309:  III.  the  fellow  i'  th'  night-cap.  The  lawyer's  hat  of  the 
day  looked  much  like  a  night-cap. 

310:    130.    this  gentleman.     Marcus. 

311:  143.  Cast  not  your  noble  beams.  Satirically,  cast  not 
your  eyesight  upon.  —  159.    and  so.     And  in  consequence. 

312:  190.  At  point's  end.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  subject 
under  discussion,  also  at  the  sword's  point. 

313:  207.  by  th'  hand.  At  any  co.st.  "  By  the  hand  "  carries 
with  it  the  idea  of  mean  trickery.  —  223.  We  have  not  such  hot 
livers.  We  are  not  so  lascivious.  The  liver  was  supposed  at  this 
time  to  be  the  seat  of  the  passions. 

314:   256.    plebeian.     Webster  means  patrician. 

315:  262.  O,  thy  opinion,  old  Pythagoras!  The  theory  of  the 
transmigration  of  souls  is  referred  to.     Cf.  Plato's  Republic,  Book  X. 

316.    Scene  II.     The  camp  before  Algidum. 


THE    KEVEN(]ER'S    TRAtiEDY  451 

318:  31.  As  Dutchmen  feed  (heir  soldiers.  The  ill  manner  in 
which  the  Dutch  provided  for  their  soldiers  was  [)roverl3ial  at  this 
time.     Such  an  anachronism  is  thoroughly  Elizabethan. 

320:  102.  this  ugly  face  of  blood.  Your  disordered  bloody 
appearance. 

321:    141.    general  tongue.     A  tongue  in  which  all  speak. 

323.  Scene  I.  Rome,  a  street.  —  18.  my  court  of  guard.  My 
body-guard,  hence  my  protection. 

324:  38.  to  preserve  dead  pays.  To  secure  the  continuation 
of  pay  to  soldiers  really  dead.  A  practice  only  too  common  in  Web- 
ster's day. 

325.  Scene  II.  The  Forum.  —  2.  Make  a  stand !  Present 
arms.  The  stage  direction  in  the  older  copies  involved  in  the  mar- 
ginal word  "  wine  "  has  reference  to  the  wine  used  below.  —  16. 
Wilt  a',  wilt  a' !  Will  you  away  I  Addressed  to  the  demon  of 
fever  whom  Virginius  thinks  is  troubling  him.  —  22.  when?  An 
exclamation  indicating  impatience. 

326:  31.  So,  I  thank  you.  This  is  said  in  appreciation  of  the 
cup  of  wine  which  Numitorius  has  helped  to  the  lips  of  Virginius. — 
58.    here's  a  fury.     His  own  sense  of  remorse. 

328:  100.  which  first  ...  .  reconcilement.  Who  made  the 
first  move  for  reconciliation. 

329:  6.  avees.  Salutations.  —  23.  'Tis  the  world  right. 
'Tis  exactly  the  way  of  the  world. 

331:  69.  I'll  fetch  .  .  .  anatomize  his  sin.  I'll  go  and  get 
some  one  who  will  dissect  his  sin. 

332:  91.  Of  yon  stern  murderer.  It  was  a  popular  belief  that 
the  victim's  wounds  bled  anew  in  the  presence  of  the  murderer.  — 
9Q.  motion.  Power  to  move;  belly,  body,  dead  trunk:  the  word 
had  no  such  vulgar  connotation  as  now.  —  105.  hangmen.  Here 
executioners.  —  118.  strage,  Their  common  vengeance.  De- 
struction, overthrow,  which  is  the  vengeance  of  both  famine  and  fire. 

333:     135.    And  so  .  .  .  do.     That  is,  die  nobly. 

THE   REVENGER'S    TRAGEDY 

339.  Enter  Vendice.  Enter  Vendice  with  a  skull  in  his  hand. 
Collins  suggests  that  Vendice  enters  on  the  balcony,  viewing  the 
other  personages  below.  —  4.  that  will  do  with  devil.  Have 
illicit  intercourse  with  the  devil.  —  13.  Turns  my  abused  .•  .  . 
jntp  fret.     Fret  is  a  term  used  in  architecture  at  this  time,  being 


452       THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 

applied  to  an  iron  grating  of  interlaced  bars.  The  meaning  is 
obvious.  His  heart  strings  are  already  abused,  the  awful  depravity 
of  the  duke  who  has  poisoned  his  beloved  "  turns  them  into  fret"; 
that  is,  makes  them  interlace,  thus  intensifying  his  grief. 

340:  24.  That  sin  but  seven  times  a  day.  Commit  only  the 
seven  deadly  sins.  Vendice  intends  this  to  be  taken  as  a  comment 
on  the  society  of  his  time.  —  36.  Outbidden.  Asked  to  do  more 
than  they  are  capable  of.  —  44.  She  has  kept  touch.  Has  kept 
her  appointments.  —  46.  their  costly  three-piled  flesh.  Their 
flesh  which  is  as  thick  and  soft  as  three-piled  velvet,  the  heaviest 
kind  of  velvet. 

341 :  54.  that  bald  madam.  Opportunity.  Fortune  was  com- 
monly pictured  in  Elizabethan  times  with  a  long  forelock,  but  bald 
on  the  back  of  her  head.  Collins  explains  this  as  a  reference  to  the 
effect  of  the  lues  Venerea.  —  63.  coat.  Petticoat.  —  75.  strange- 
digested  fellow.     A  malcontent. 

342:  99.  Occasion  ...  by  the  foretop.  Compare  Oppor- 
tunity, above.  —  103.  false  money.  Money  given  as  pay  for  being 
false.  The  brothers  coin  or  pretend  that  Vendice  is  going  away 
in  order  to  keep  his  disguise  a  secret.  —  114.  The  law's  a  woman. 
Would  Justice  were  personified  in  you! 

345:  44.  So,  sir.  You  think  it  so?  —  56.  That  lady's  name. 
The  name  of  the  wife  of  Antonio.  —  65.  'sessed.  A  shortened 
form  of  assessed.  Usually  applied  to  fixing  the  amount  of  taxes, 
here  to  determining  the  penalty  for  a  crime. 

346;    75.    performance.     Performance  of  the  marital  duties. 

347:  97.  easy  doctors.  Doctors  easily  bribed  to  administer 
poison.  —  99.  And  keep  church  Letter.  Keep  the  marriage  vows 
which  he  took  in  church.  —  100.  Some  second  wife.  The  duchess 
is  the  second  wife  of  the  duke.  —  109.  I'll  kill  him  in  his  forehead. 
By  making  him  a  cuckold.  —  116.  jewel's  mine  ...  in  his  ear. 
Men  frequently  wore  earrings  in  old  time.  Both  Shakespeare  and 
Jonson  are  represented  so  adorned  in  old  portraits. 

348:  125.  a  hatted  dame.  At  this  time,  women  of  inferior  rank 
wore  hats.  —  126.  But  that.  If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that.  — 
140.  For  peeping  .  .  .  holiday  windows.  The  reference  is  to 
the  pranks  which  were  indulged  in  at  the  celebrations  of  saints'  days, 
"  holydays  "  of  holidays.  On  such  occasions  many  debaucheries 
were  indulged  in.  —  144.  clatter  barbers'  basins.  These  basins 
were  hung  up  in  front  of  their  doors  as  signs.  —  146.  Nay  .  .  . 
light  off.     Alight.     The  Duchess  and  Spurio  in  this  and  in  the  next 


THE    REVENGER'S    TRAc;EDY  453 

two  or  three  speeches  indulge  in  the  common  Elizabethan  practice 
of  capping  proverbs.  —  150.  as  no  doubt.  This  is  the  elliptical 
use  of  "  as."  After  "  as  "  supply,  "  he  certainly  was  for,"  etc.  — 
155.    the  collet.     The  part  of  a  ring  in  which  the  stone  is  set. 

349:  168.  make  blood  rough.  Enrage  anyone  of  manly  cour- 
age. —  176.  Earnest,  and  farewell.  Earnest  was  money  given  as 
a  pledge  for  the  payment  of  more,  hence  the  kiss  of  the  Duchess 
is  a  pledge  for  what  is  to  follow.  —  179.  woman's  heraldry.  The 
horns  of  the  cuckold. 

350:  200.  more  beholding  to  report.  A  veiled  thrust  at  the 
moral  standard  of  the  times.  Spurio  was  known  to  be  illegitimate. 
His  brother's  birth,  though  generally  regarded  as  legitimate,  was 
really  "  more  beholding  to  report."  There  was  no  real  certainly 
in  either  case. 

351:  12.  scholar.  Scholar  usually  signified  schoolboy  and  was 
used  figuratively  for  immaturity  or  naivete.  —  16.  Save  Grace 
the  bawd.  Grace  is  a  nickname  of  Gratiana,  which  was  the  name 
of  Vendice's  mother.  Her  son  already  suspects  her  of  an  inclination 
to  prove  the  bawd  to  her  own  daughter's  dishonour.  —  17.  you 
reach  out  o'  the  verge  now.  You  are  going  entirely  beyond 
bounds  in  suggesting  so  impossible  a  thing.  —  25.  and  if  Time  .  .  . 
Time.  Time  was  commonly  personified  as  now  in  the  figure  of  a 
bald-headed  old  man.  —  36.  Gather  him  into  boldness!  Urge 
such  a  man  to  be  bold  !  It  is  plain  he  is  bold  enough.  —  38.  shakes 
me.     With  fear  of  his  masterful  spirit. 

352:  40.  And  not  so  little.  And  that  is  nothing  so  very  trivial. 
—  50.  patrimonies  washed  a  pieces.  Spent  in  drinking.  — 
54.  gravel  a  petition.  Sand  was  used  at  this  time  in  the  place  of 
blotting  paper. 

353:  77.  And  deeply  .  .  .  into  all  estates.  Well  acquainted 
with  the  nature  and  management  of  all  affairs.  —  87.  I  enter  thee, 
on  my  books,  metaphorically ;  engage  thee  my  servant.  Note  the 
later  play  on  the  word,  in  its  sense  to  possess  as  a  devil  possesses  a 
man.  —  87.  This  Indian  devil.  The  love  of  money,  India  being 
the  seat  of  wealth.  —  94.  Many  waxed  lines.  Carefully  perfected 
lines.  Compare  the  expression,  a  man  of  wax.  —  99.  PhcEnix.  A 
term  applied  to  anything  unusual.  The  fabulous  Arabian  bird 
which  existed  single  and  rose  again  from  its  own  ashes. 

354:  105.  can  defend  Marriage  is  good.  Can  defend  the  thesis 
that  marriage  is  good.  —  115.  the  portion  of  her  soul  .  .  .  her 
chastity.     Castiza  has  probably  said,  or  it  may  be  taken  for  granted 


454       THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 

that  she  would,  if  given  the  opportunity,  say  that  her  chastity  was 
the  chief  part  of  her  soul.  —  1 16.  bring  it  into  expense.  Make  it 
a  matter  of  barter.  —  117.  money  laid  to  sleep.  Money  put  aside 
as  savings.  —  iig.  gi'en't  the  tang.  Hit  the  nail  on  the  head. — 
130.    put  a  man  in.      Admit  a  man  to  her  favours. 

355 :  153.  mystery  of  a  woman.  The  mystery  of  what  a  woman 
really  is. 

357:  17.  Melius  .  .  .  vivere.  Better  to  die  in  virtue  than  to 
live  in  disgrace.  —  23.  Curae  .  .  .  stupent.  Light  griefs  speak, 
heavier  ones  are  silent.  ■ —  24.  You  deal  with  truth.  You  are 
right. 

358:  43.  damnation  of  both  kinds.  Sin  incurring  loss  of  body 
and  of  soul.  —  48.  of  rare  fire  compact.  All  things,  according  to 
the  older  science,  were  composed  of  earth,  air,  fire,  or  water.  Fire 
and  air  were  the  more  spiritual  elements. 

361:  44.  take  the  wall.  In  passing  on  the  Elizabethan  street, 
to  give  the  wall  was  to  show  courtesy  or  confess  inferiority,  as  the 
kennel  or  gutter  ran  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  To  take  the  wall 
was  hence  to  assume  superiority.  —  45.  I'm  above  my  tongue. 
What  I  say  does  not  represent  my  feelings. 

362:  60.  like  to  be  our  sudden  duke.  Likely  at  any  moment 
(suddenly)  to  become  our  duke  by  the  death  of  his  decrepit  father.  — 
61.  every  tide.  All  the  time,  constantly.  —  70.  wheel.  Turn 
of  good  fortune. 

363 :  98.  Should  keep  men  after  men.  Enable  me  to  keep  a 
train  of  serving  men. 

365:  154.  come  by  yourselves.  Come  to  be  yourselves. — 
163.  that  knows.  That  is  acquainted  with  the  true  character  of 
her  own  mother,  with  a  play  of  course  on  the  proverb:  'Tis  a  wise 
child  that  knows  his  own  father. 

366:  182.  will  keep  less  charge.  Will  not  bear  such  a  heavy 
burden.  —  188.  petitionary  people.  To  make  people  put  up 
petitions  to  you  because  of  your  influence.  —  202.  but  let  horns 
wear  'em.  The  antlers  on  which  hats  were  hung  in  ancient  halls, 
with  the  usual  double  entendre. 

367:  215.  a  hundred  acres  on  their  backs.  The  court-ward- 
robe, to  obtain  which  they  had  sold  their  lands.  —  224.  much  un- 
told. There  is  much  which  I  leave  untold.  —  230.  that's  not 
honesty.  This  refers  to,  "  that's  accounted  best  which  is  best  fol- 
lowed." Honesty  of  course  means  chastity.  —  230.  love.  Low  is 
probably  the  true  reading;  however,  a  meaning  is  possible  retaining 


THE   REVENGER'S   TRAGEDY  455 

love.  Do  but  note  the  meagreness  of  the  love  which  is  bestowed 
upon  it.  —  233.  that.  Chastity.  —  239.  she's  too  inward, 
then!  Too  much  of  your  inward  and  real  nature,  too  in- 
grained. —  240.  Slave  ...  in  thy  office !  Spoken  to  Vendice. 
—  241.  mother.  Once  more  with  a  play  on  the  word  meaning 
hysteria.  —  242.  I've  outgone  you.  I  have  held  my  own  against 
you. 

368:  251.  Than  those  .  .  .  look  downward.  "  The  beasts  of 
the  field."  • —  10.  season.  Time.  Hippolito  implies  that  he  and 
his  brother  will  find  a  time  to  revenge  their  wrongs. 

370:  40.  Who's  that?  Lussurioso  thinks  he  hears  some  one, 
owing  to  Vendice's  words  aside. 

371:  98.  O,  lessen  .  .  .  the  earth.  A  reference  to  the  fifth 
commandment.  —  104.  beneficial  perjury.  Disinterested  per- 
jury;  perjury  which  is  to  yield  profit  to  some  one  else. 

373:  23.  damn.  By  killing  him  at  his  pleasure,  Vendice  will 
prevent  him  from  the  final  absolution,  thus  damning  him.  Compare 
Hamlet's  hesitancy  to  kill  the  King  because  he  is  at  his  prayers.  — 
26.  Mark !  there ;  there.  Vendice  points  at  Spurio  and  his  fol- 
lowers. —  29.  funeral  heralds'  fees.  Collins  suggests  phease, 
tatters  or  hangings;  here  the  draperies  used  by  conductors  (heralds) 
of  funerals. 

374:  61.  This  is  the  fruit  of  two  beds.  The  duke's  falsity  to 
his  first  marriage  brought  Spurio  into  the  world,  and  the  falsity  of 
the  duchess  to  her  present  marriage  led  to  the  incest  of  which  Ven- 
dice speaks. 

375:  17.  Amongst  the  lawyers!  By  turning  Lussurioso  over 
to  justice. 

377:  63.    a  puritan  heart.     Deceptive  heart. 

378:  82.  before  his  eyes  .  .  .  sound.  He,  that  is,  the  duke, 
would  have  seen  that  the  execution  was  performed  before  his  very 
eyes. 

379:  134.  Many  a  beauty  ...  In  the  denial.  Vendice's 
betrothed  had  been  so  poisoned. 

381:   4.   myself.     That  is,  Duke. 

382:  20.  that  is  least  imprudent.  The  person  who  is  least  im- 
prudent, most  wary.  —  22.  Our  office  shall  be  sound.  We  shall 
perform  what  we  are  bidden.  —  34.  Fine  fools  [are  these]  in 
office !     Because  they  do  not  know  the  trick  the  brothers  are  playing. 

384:  44.    this  powerful  token.     The  signet. 

385:    66.    Duns.     A  term  derived  from  Duns  Scotus,  one  of  the 


456       THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 

famous  schoolmen  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Any  kind  of  far-fetched 
interpretation  might  be  called  a  "  Duns."  —  69.  a  trick  .  .  .  four 
cards.  In  the  game  of  primero.  —  78.  good  authority's  bastards. 
Authority  is  the  power  of  the  law.  Possibly  the  speaker  means  to 
infer  that  the  oflicers  have  no  lawful  right  to  their  othces. 

386:    8.    I'll  divide  it  to  thee.     Communicate  it  to  thee. 

387:  40.  And  there's  more  .  .  .  prices.  The  concealing  of 
vices  in  private  is  more  common  than  the  cases  of  these  who  are 
known,  etc.  —  45.  Known !  Vendice  is  addressing  the  "  skull 
dressed  up  in  tires  "  as  representative  of  the  sex,  not  specifically, 
as  his  betrothed.  —  48.  I'll  save  .  .  .  that  labour.  Hippolito 
offers  to  unmask  the  veiled  "  skull."  Vendice  says  to  him  "  I'll 
save  your  hand,"  etc.;  then  to  the  "skull,"  "I'll  unmask  you," 
which  he  does.  —  51.    As  such  all  hid.     So  completely  hidden. 

388:    75.    falsify  highways.     Perhaps  change  boundaries. 

389:  100.  property.  Implement.  The  context  shows  that  the 
idea  of  stage  fittings  is  also  present  in  the  writer's  mind.  —  114. 
when  beauty  flows.  When  beauty  is  in  its  ascendancy.  — 
116.    You  have  my  voice.     I  agree  with  you. 

390:    138.    conduct  her.     Produce  her. 

392:  190.  Once  .  .  .  'tis  quitted.  Adultery  is  sure  to  be  paid 
for  by  the  adulterer.     Once  is  often  used  in  the  sense  of  "  sometime." 

393:  224.  'Tis  state  .  .  .  to  bleed.  It  is  a  scene  of  pomp  and 
splendour  when  a  duke  dies  to  the  accompaniment  of  music. 

399:  29.  a  stroke  of  death.  Very  near  to  kilhng  Spuri--.  As 
Hippolito  repeats  the  phrase- it  means  the  sword's  thrust,  lastly  he 
turns  that  to  a  stroke  of  time  in  music.  —  41.  lay  this  iron  age 
upon  thee.  Punish  you  with  all  the  cruelty  of  this  cruel  age. 
—  46.    moved  me.     Moved  me  from  my  purposes. 

400:  6g.  does  himself  work  to  undo  him.  Docs  he  work  to 
undo  himself.  —  78.  black  condition.  Melancholy  condition, 
suffering  from  an  excess  of  black  bile. 

401 :  5.  'Twill  be  the  quainter  fallacy.  It  will  be  a  finer  mis- 
take than  if  he  had  accepted  me  in  my  disguise. 

402:  14.  the  realm  is  clad  in  clay.  Realm  seems  here  to 
mean  sovereignty.  The  sovereignty  is  vested  (clad)  in  clay,  since 
the  duke,  though  turning  to  dust,  is  still  the  nominal  ruler.  —  25.  It 
is  ...  to  be  doubtful.  It  is  not  the  least  thing  in  intrigue  to  be 
circumspect.  —  44.  gi'  you  good  den.  A  familiar  form  of  salu- 
tation.    Vendice  assumes  a  rustic  speech  in  his  new  disguise. 

403:  49.    God  in  a  salutation.     The  complete  salutation  which 


THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY       457 

Vendice  used  was,  "  God  give  you  good  day."  —  54.  black  buck- 
ram. In  which  law  books  were  then  l)ouiid.  —  60.  terms.  The 
sittings  of  the  courts.  —  63.  having  had  .  .  .  canvassed.  That 
is,  tried. — 67.    sasarara.     A  corruiJtion  of  certiorari. 

404:  104.  And  thou  .  .  .  draw  that  out?  That  refers  to 
my  meaning.  You  have  interpreted  my  meaning  in  an  entirely 
mercenary  sense.  —  109.  in  colours.  In  appearance.  Compare 
the  title  of  Bacon's  famous  Essays  on  Colours  (appearances)  of  Good 
and  Evil. 

405:  146.  a  likely  man  for  pleasure.  A  man  who  seemed 
likely  to  make  a  good  pander. 

406:  154.  Out,  slave!  Lussurioso  takes  this  as  an  echo  of 
what  he  has  just  said.  Vendice,  of  course,  intends  it  as  an  execra- 
tion against  Lussurioso.  —  158.  For  chaste  respect.  Because  of 
her  regard  for  chastity. 

408:  213.  But  I  have  found  it.  A  means  to  get  out  of  our  diffi- 
culty.—  219.  but  not  conveyed.  Conveyed  away,  disposed  of. — 
232.    it  is  substantial.     //  refers  to  Vendice's  plot. 

409:  238.  'tis  in  grain.  That  is,  dyed  in  grain,  in  the  material 
itself.  —  5.  I'm  confident  you  may.  Spurio's  comment  upon  the 
freedom  with  which  the  duchess  loves.  —  12.  sleep  soft.  Live 
luxuriously. 

410:  5.  iron  nipples.  Their  daggers.  —  7.  quarled.  Ex- 
plained by  Murray  as  curdled,  turned  sour.  —  8.  Cut  not  your 
days  for't !  An  allusion  to  the  fifth  commandment.  —  14.  thou 
only?  Vendice  implies  that  no  other  woman  hates  the  name  of 
bawd. 

412 :  60.  O  you  of  easy  wax !  You  are  so  easily  moulded  to  the 
desire  of  another.  —  66.  Green-coloured  maids.  Of  a  pale  and 
sallow  complexion.  —  82.  joy's  a  subtle  elf.  A  spirit  which  easily 
flies  away.  —  84.  now  holy-watered  mead.  The  mother  who 
has  been  purified  by  her  tears  of  contrition. 

418:  64.  Sa,  sa,  sa.  Expressions  used  in  fencing  and  in  a  duel 
when  a  hit  was  made. 

419:  96.  a  deep  revenger  .  .  .  clearest  man.  A  deep  re- 
venger can,  when  murder  is  discovered,  so  plot  that  he  will  be  the 
least  suspected  of  any  man.  —  no.  Over  ...  In  deadly  fire. 
The  common  belief  in  regard  to  comets. 

420 :  139.  Could  you  not  stick?  Remain  in  the  favour  of  your 
master,  Lussurioso. 

422:  185.    And  if  I  miss  his  heart.     If  I  miss  his  heart.     Spurio 


458       THE  REVENGER'S  TRAGEDY 

intends  to  kill  the  new  duke.  —  194.  that  build  upon.  Meditate 
upon. 

423:  2.  That  flow  in  too  much  milk.  Are  too  mild,  have  "  too 
much  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness." 

424:    5.    That  shine.     The  smile  of  Lussurioso. 

425:  22.  whom  art  and  learning  weds.  The  learned  men. — 
23.  stars  wear  locks.  That  is,  have  tails  like  comets.  —  39. 
You  thing!     You  wretched  thing  !     This  is  spoken  to  the  comet. 

427:  82.  New  marrow!  .  .  .  expressed.  The  meaning  seems 
to  be:  "Here  is  a  new  scent  (perhaps  Tourneur  wrote  '  matter  '); 
I  cannot  be  forced  into  confession." 

429:  126.  This  murder  .  .  .  tongueless  brass.  Told  on 
monuments  that  commonly  speak  not  the  truth.  —  135.  we  could 
have  nobles  clipped,  etc.  Perhaps  we  could  get  noblemen  into 
trouble  and  be  rewarded  for  it. 


GLOSSARY 

Terms  readily  found  in  an  unabridged  dictionary,  an  encyclopedia,  or  a  Razetteer 
are  for  the  most  part  not  included  in  this  list. 


A,  on. 

Accepted  at,   taken  exception  to. 

Accrue,  to  draw  upon  yourself. 

Acquaintance,  knowledge. 

Adamant,  loadstone. 

Affection,  taste,  fancy. 

Aim,  guess. 

An,  if. 

Anatomies,  skeletons. 

Angel,  a  gold  coin  worth  ten 
shillings. 

Apprehend,  to  consider. 

Apprehensive,  quick  of  under- 
standing. 

Apricock,  variant  of  apricot. 

Arras-powder,  probably  orris-root 
powder. 

Arrest,  to  seize. 

Atomies,  atoms. 

Attend,  to  give  attention. 

Audit,  final  account. 

Auditory,  audience. 


B 


Bait,  to  harass. 

Ballassed,  ballasted. 

Ballated,  made  the  subject  of  bal- 
lads. 

Banditto,  bandit. 

Banquerouts,  bankrupts. 

Barriers,  a  tilting-match,  tourna- 
ment. 

Base-coined,  misbegotten. 

Basilisk,  see  Cockatrice. 

Bate,    to   decline,    fall    away. 

Bedstaff,  a  stafi  used  to  spread 
out  bedclothes. 

Bent,  determined. 

Blackguard,  the  scullion  who  rode 
with    the    kitchen    utensils. 

Blanks,  blank-charter,  something 
to  which  anything  may  be 
aflSxed,  promise. 


Bloodshed,  bloodshot. 

Blouze,   a  beggar's  wench. 

Bowelled,  disembowelled. 

Braches,  bitch  hounds. 

Brave,      finely      and      splendidly 

dressed. 
Bravely,  finely. 
Braver,  more  splendidly. 
Brawns,    muscles,   usually   of   the 

arms. 
Briarius,  a  hundred-handed  giant. 
Bring,  to  accompany. 
Bring  up,  to  bring  in. 
Brize,  the  gadfly. 
Broad,  unrestrained. 
Broke  up,  broke. 
Bumbasted,  stufifed  out. 
Burganet,    a    closs-fitting    helmet. 
Bushing,   flaring  out  in  the  form 

of  a  bush. 


Careening,  lying  over  on  one  side, 
as  a  ship. 

Caroche,  great  coach. 

Carve,  to  make  a  gesture  of  com- 
pliment or  understanding  with 
hand  or  finger,  usually  at 
table  while  raising  the  glass  to 
the  mouth. 

Caters,  caterers. 

Cause,  affair,  case  in  law. 

Censure,  to  think. 

Censure,  estimate,  opinion. 

Censured,     judged,     criticized. 

Censurer,  judge. 

Check,  to  strike  at,  as  a  hawk. 

Chirurgeon,  surgeon. 

Civility,  the  quality  most  cnarac- 
teristic  of  a  civilized  com- 
munity. 

Cling,  to  embrace. 

Clip,  embrace. 

Clock,  hour. 


4S9 


46o 


GLOSSARY 


Close,  secret,  affording  good  op- 
portunity for  hiding. 

Closed,  disclosed. 

Close-pent,  close  shut. 

Cockatrice,  a  basilisk,  a  fabulous 
reptile  believed  to  kill  with  a 
look. 

Cod-piece,  the  triangular  patch  in 
the  front  of  the  Elizabethan 
dress  for  men,  to  which  the  hose 
were  fastened. 

Collet,  the  setting  which  sur- 
rounds the  stone  of  a  ring. 

Colour,  excuse,  trick. 

Commedled,  commingled. 

Competent,   to  be  measured. 

Complement,  external  appearance. 

Compound,  come  to  some  agree- 
ment. 

Comrague,  comrade. 

Conceit,  idea,  judgement,  opinion  ; 
imagination,   a  mental   picture. 

Concionate,  to  harangue  the  mob. 

Confine,  to  drive  out. 

Consort,  company. 

Conster,  to  construe. 

Convertite,   convert. 

Conveyed,  managed,  often  im- 
plying secrecy. 

Convince,  to  convict. 

Convince,  to  overcome,  be  su- 
perior to. 

Corrasive,  caustic. 

Corrasived,  corroded. 

Coulter,  ploughshare. 

Countermand,  to  control. 

Couple,  to  embrace. 

Court  it,  to  frequent  the  court. 

Cozen,  to  cheat. 

Crudded,  curded. 

Crusado,   a  Portuguese  coin. 

CuUis,   a   rich   soup. 

Curious,  accurate. 

Curst,  cross. 

Cypress,  crepe. 

D 

Dainty,  daintily. 

Danske,  Dansig,  perhaps  Danish. 

Defend,  to  forbid. 

Digested,   arranged,   plotted. 


Discourse,  relate,  tell. 
Discover,  to  make  known. 
Disembogue,  to  discharge. 
Dispose,  to  dispose  of. 
Dissemblence,  dissimulation. 
Diversivolent,  desiring  strife. 
Don,  to  do. 
Dotterel,   a  bird  notorious  for  its 

foolishness. 
Double,  practise  deception. 
Drab,  mistress,  strumpet. 


Easy,  easily  bribed. 

Engines,  mechanical  devices. 

Enthronized,  enthroned. 

Ephemerides,  a  table  of  the  mo- 
tion of  the  planets. 

Equal,  just. 

Estate,  worldly  condition. 

Exorbitant,  unusual  because  of 
greatness. 

Expect,  suspect,  anticipate. 

Expresseth,  brings  out. 


Fact,  deed ;  criminal  act. 
Fall,  to  change. 
Fall,  accident,  vicissitude. 
Familiar,  a  familiar  spirit. 
Farthingale,    hoop  petticoat. 
Faulting,  crime. 
Fearful,    timid,    full   of   fear. 
FeUy,   outer  rim  of  a  wheel. 
File,  defile. 
Fond,  foolish. 
Fondly,  foolishly. 
Forbear,  to  go  away,  move  away. 
Former,  formerly. 
Found,  found  out. 
Fox,  a  sword. 
Framed,  formed. 
From,  far  from. 

Furnished,    furnished   with   food, 
set. 


Galliard,    a    lively    dance. 
Gallouses,  gallows-birds,  criminals. 
Gargarism,  gargle. 
Gather,  to  infer. 


GLOSSARY 


461 


Gealed,  clotted,  made  solid  by 
cold. 

General-honest,  of  good  reputa- 
tion. 

Gennet,  a  small  Spanish  horse. 

Gentles,  maggots. 

Give  aim,  to  incite,  encourage. 

Glassen,   made  of  glass. 

Go,  to  walk. 

Golls,  hands. 

Gossip,  a  sponsor  in  baptism. 

Grazed,   lost   in   the  grass. 

Groom,  servant. 

Gudgeons,  small  fish  which  are 
very    easily    caught. 

Gullery,  deception. 


Habit,  dress,  disguise ;  method  of 
conducting   one's   self. 

Happily,    passibly,    by    chance. 

Harness,  armour,  the  equipment 
of  a  soldier. 

Hasped,  folded  in  an  embrace  as 
if  bound  with  a  hasp. 

Hazard,  the  side  of  the  tennis 
court  into  which  the  ball  is 
served. 

Heaves,  sighs.     ' 

Hodmondod,  a  snail. 

Honesty,  chastity. 

Hugger-mugger,  secretly,  clan- 
destinely. 

Hurl,  to  bluster. 

Husband,  steward,  manager. 


Impart,  to  take  a  part  in. 

Impostume,  abscess. 

Indifferent,  ordinarily. 

Infallid,  infallible. 

Infect,  infected,  wicked. 

Infortunate,  unfortunate. 

Ingenious,  ingenuous. 

Ingeniously,  heartily,  ingenu- 
ously. 

Insculption,  inscription. 

Intelligencer,  informer. 

Iper,  the  iperquiba  or  sucking- 
fish. 


Joy,  to  rejoice  over. 
Julio,    a    coin    of    about    sixpence 
value. 


Kennel,  gutter. 

Kissing-comfits,  sugar-plums  per- 
fumed to  make  the  breath 
sweet. 

Knit,  to  unite. 


Lay,  wager. 

Leaguer,  camp. 

Leaguerer,    member   of   a   camp, 

soldier. 
Learn,  leash. 
Leiger,  permanent. 
Levet,  young  hare. 
Levies,  troops. 
Light,  wanton,  frivolous. 
Limed,  painted. 
Lists,  "  remanents." 
Literated,  learned. 
Little-timbered,  small  in  body. 
Luxur,  lascivious  person. 
Luxurious,  lascivious. 

M 

Manage,  management,  horseman- 
ship. 

Mandragora,  mandrake,  a  sopo- 
rific. 

Mass,  by  the  mass. 

Maugre,  defy. 

Maze,   perplexity,  confusion. 

Measle,  sow. 

Meet,  to  come  to,  fall  to. 

Mete,  measured. 

Misprision,  misapprehension. 

Misprized,  undervalued. 

Moderator,  judge. 

Moile,  mule. 

Morphewed,  leprous. 

Mortification,  death. 

Mother,  hysteria. 

Mulct,  debt. 


462 


GLOSSARY 


Mummy,  a  pitch-like  substance, 
supposedly  extracted  from 
mummies,  used  as  a  medicine. 

N 

Nake,  to  make  naked,  unsheath. 

Natural,  foolish. 

Naught,  bad  in  a  moral  sense. 

Nerve,  sinew. 

Next,  next  heir. 

Next  to,   except,   unless. 

Novel,   novelty,   new  thing. 


Obdure,  obdurate. 

Object,  sight. 

Oblique,  perverse. 

One  and  one,   one  another. 

Opposite,  antagonist. 

Order,  to  draw  up  in  order. 

Owed,  owned. 


Palped,  dark. 

Paraquito,  parrot. 

Parlous,  perilous. 

Part,  to  depart. 

Pash,  strike  hard,  knock. 

Passenger,  wayfarer,  traveller. 

Peevish,  foolish. 

Period,  sentence. 

Perspective,  a  telescope. 

Pewter,    pewterer. 

Physic,  cure,  work  as  a  remedy. 

Pioner,  digger,  ditcher. 

Placket,  slit  in  a  petticoat. 

Plot,  plan. 

Policy,  the  art  of  managing  af- 
fairs to  one's  own  advantage ; 
art  of  managing  public  affairs. 

Politic,  ingeniously  contrived. 

Populous,  popular. 

Port,  general  appearance,  often 
applied  to  one  who  was  stately 
in  bearing. 

Possessed,  informed. 

Possessing,  installation. 

Poulter,  poulterer. 

Presence,  a  royal  court. 


Presentment,  presentation. 
President,  judge. 
Press,  impress. 
Private,    privacy. 
Proffer,  to  make  a  feint. 
Progress,  a  state  journey. 
Provant,    provided   as   a   part   of 

the    equipment    of    a    soldier; 

provision. 
Puisne,  novice. 
Pullen,  poultry. 
Purchase,  gain,  booty. 
Purse-net,    a  net,   the  mouth   of 

which  closed  like  a  purse. 
Put  on,  to  pretend  to  be. 


Quaint,  fine. 

Quaintlier,  with  greater  skill  or 
expedition. 

Quaintly,  finely,  precisely ;  ex- 
cellently.   , 

Quake,  to  shake,  make  tremble. 

Quality,    profession,    character. 

Quarrel,  cause. 

Quat,  the  squatting  posture  of 
a  hare. 

Questionless,  beyond  doubt. 

Quicken,  to  enliven  one. 

Quietus,  the  statement  signed  at 
the  settlement  of  an  account. 

Quit,  excuse. 

Quit,  to  requite. 

Quittance,  revenge. 

Quoit,  throw. 

Quoted,   written  down. 


Rase,  to  strike  on  the  surface. 

Ravel,  to  unravel. 

Reach,  to  understand. 

Receiver,  procurer. 

Refine,  to  get  possession  of. 

Regardant,  looking  backward. 

Regreets,  re-greetings,  new  greet- 
ings. 

Reportage,  report. 

Resolve,  dissolve,  separate  into 
original     elements;      inform. 

Resolved,  determined,  convinced. 


GLOSSARY 


463 


Resty,    torpid. 
Right,  truly. 
Rub,  to  put. 


Sad,  to  sadden. 

Sasarara,  corruption  for  certiorari. 

Satisfied,  released. 

Scantle,  to  make  scant. 

Scuttles,  quick  steps. 

'Sdeath,  God's  death. 

Season,   age  or  time. 

Secretary,  confidant,  one  who 
knows  another's  secrets. 

Secured,  made  free  from  care. 

Security,  freedom  from  care  or 
worry. 

Seld,    seldom,    unusual. 

Sessions-house,  senate-house. 

'Sfoot,  by  God's  foot. 

Shape,  external  appearance,  dis- 
guise. 

Shaver,  a  rascal,  miser. 

Sheep-biter,  a  petty,  sneaking 
thief. 

Shrewd,  cursed. 

Skills,  matters. 

Slight,  worthless,  treacherous. 

'Slud,  by  God's  blood. 

Sluggy,  inactive. 

Smoor,  smother. 

Sort,  company. 

Springe,  a  device  for  catching 
birds. 

Squib,  rocket. 

Stale,  prostitute. 

Stand,  to  withstand. 

Statists,  statesmen,  men  who 
conduct  the  aflairs  of  a  state. 

Stay,  to  await. 

Stibium,  antimony. 

Stigmatic,  marked  as  with  a  hot 
iron. 

Still,  always. 

Stinted,  stopped. 

Strage,  overthrow,  ruin. 

Strange-digested,  of  strange  dis- 
position. 

Suffrage,  wish  as  expressed  by 
voting,  support. 

Superfices,  surface. 


Supportance,  su[)port. 
Suspect,    suspicion ;     question. 
Sweet  reckoning,  high  price. 
Switzer,  a  mercenary  soldier. 


Taken,    fully   comprehended. 

Tallants,  talons. 

Target,  shield. 

Teach,  to  tax,  take  to  task. 

Tenant,  servant  or  in  the  service 

of. 
Tent,  to  stanch. 
Than,  except. 
Thrill,  to  hurl. 

Time,  the  present  state  of  things. 
Tissue,  cloth  of  gold  qr  silver. 
To,  toward. 
Told,    told   over,   counted,   hence 

kept. 
Torved,  stern. 
Touch,  to  try. 
Toward,  towards,  in  preparation, 

to  come  off  soon. 
Trace,  to  follow. 
Travail,  trouble,  also  travel. 
Trave,  labour. 
Trendle-tail,    dog  with  a  curling 

tail. 


Unbraced,  unbuttoned. 
Uncivil,  uncivilized. 
Unclear,   unshriven,  unforgiven. 
Uncouth,  unknown,  unheard  of. 
Uncrannied,        without        cracks 

whereby  secrets  may  leak  out. 
Under-keeper,  one  of  the  lowest 

officers  in  a  jail. 
Undistinguished,      undistinguish- 

able. 
Unequal,  unjust. 
Ure,  use. 

Use,  interest,  usury. 
Usuring,  practising  usury. 
Uttered,  sold. 


Vallance,  drapery. 
Vaunt-guard,  vanguard. 


464 


GLOSSARY 


Ventage,  holes  for  the  passage  of 

air. 
Vizard,  mask. 
Voices,  opinions. 

W 

Wage,  pay ;  enter  into  strife  with. 
Waged,  paid  v/ages. 
Waited,  watched  for. 
Watching,  waking. 
Well-mingled,   capable,   versatile. 
Will,  conscious  purpose. 


Wind,  to  get  the  wind  of,  scent 

find  out. 
Wind  up,  to  round  up. 
Withal,  with. 
Witty,  wittily. 
Wretchless,  reckless. 
Wring,  to  pinch. 


Yeomen-fewterer,    under    hunts- 


Yield,  to  give. 


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